Reading Jazz

Written in the late 19th century, Paul Lawrence Dunbar’s poem “When Malindy Sings” evokes many wonderful images of the effects of music. The poem itself gives a wonderful insight into the power of music, and the eternal life granted by sound; however, this longevity is only a partial component of the importance of “When Malindy Sings”. The poem-turned-song has proved itself capable of both encapsulating and affecting jazz and the culture surrounding it. Looking at the adaptation by Abbey Lincoln, and company later on, it is clear that the poem has proven to have a powerful impact on not only enjoyers of poetry, but also music listeners and musicians themselves. The translation of a poem about music into music itself is a profound insight into Black expression. 

Crafted by Paul Lawrence Dunbar in the late nineteenth century and then published in a collection of the same name in 1904, “When Malindy Sings” spans nine stanzas, interspersed with photographs in the collection. The tone almost allows for the poem itself to sound like the blues; the swing of the AAVE, the signifyin’ through repetition with a change (“You ain’t got de….”), and the rhythmic movement of the stanzas. A prominent theme in much of Dunbar’s writing and an important notice within “When Malindy Sings” is the use of African American Vernacular-English, also known as AAVE. From the first line “G’way an’ quit dat noise, Miss Lucy–”, it is clear that the spelling is not that of standardly received English, with three of first four words using an apostrophe to shorten the word. The use of AAVE gives the poem a specific tone immediately, conveying the manner in which the words are spoken. Many of Dunbar’s readers might have been hearing this type of speech for the first time in this poem, so it is an interesting choice to write it almost in code, but in doing so, to draw intrigue from more people. With added information of the tone, the readers are given contextual information about the setting and characters. 

While the actual singing is not described in particular, the poem works to draw focus sound as a whole: that of Malindy’s singing as well as that of the spoken poem. With the use of AAVE, the reader is able to come to the conclusion that the unnamed narrator is black, yet through the conversation the speaker has with other characters, it becomes clear that, as much as the poem is a connection between the worlds of sound and literature, the narrator is also between these worlds in a sense. While race is never expressly explained, it seems likely that the “Miss Lucy”, who is so immediately criticized and instructed to stop her music, is white. Miss Lucy is both addressed with the more formal prefix “miss” and is told to put away her book, implying a certain literacy and higher social status than the narrator or Malindy who is simply addressed with no prefix. Malindy’s music is then described as “a-flyin’… F’om de kitchen to de big woods,” which conjures up an image of Malindy employed as perhaps a house servant or something of the sort. Creating a very self-referential piece of work, Dunbar’s unnamed narrator describes how incredible Malindy’s singing is as a work of Black expression and of the impact Malindy has as a Black artist. The narrator’s sort of “between” status also applies to Dunbar and the later musical adaptors, who also all exist in a place where their expression of the Black experience is widely applauded and acknowledged by the white population. The message of the poem encapsulates this sense of jazz and the difficulty behind the feat of being a successful musician;“When hit comes to raal right singin’,/ ‘T ain’t no easy thing to do.” The poem’s relevance to musicians and the similarity in energy to jazz music tied it closely to the jazz movement years later, when singer Abbey Lincoln and Oscar Brown Jr. led a group of musicians to develop and record the poem as a jazz piece in 1961. 

During this shift from the work as a poem to a piece of music, the adaptors cut the piece down from nine stanzas to four. While this could be interpreted as the result of time constraints due to the recording formatting and material of the time, it is notable to see which stanzas of the original poem were not included in the musical treatment by Brown and Lincoln. Of the nine original stanzas, the second and fourth through seventh are excluded from the composition. The second stanza continues the introduction’s critique of character Miss Lucy, thus making its exclusion and the swift turn to the third stanza all the more of a focus on the impressive nature of Malindy’s singing than the Miss Lucy’s pathetic music. The fourth through 7th stanza are also exempt from the musical translation, where there is instead an instrumental interlude. These stanzas evoke a strong image of religion, particularly institutions of religion, drawing a strong image of Malindy’s singing as spiritual and almost godly. 

As the music Malindy is actually singing is never truly described, it is interesting to consider the adaptation and how Lincoln would plan to sing and perhaps emulate Malindy. With the poem directing such focus to ask “don’t you hyeah de echoes callin’”, Lincoln’s singing has an inherent highlighting from its own lyrics. Throughout the song, Lincoln sings melodically to the backing music, in a sort of wordless vocalese. This sound is particularly clear in the beginning, after the solely instrumental prelude when Lincoln joins and prefaces her own lyrical singing (0:20-0:40). Considering the meta nature of this work, it becomes clear that Lincoln is in some ways acting as both the unspecified speaker and perhaps Malindy herself, or at least giving a sense of what Malindy could possibly sound like. This filling in of the silence emphasized by the original poem is fascinating, and showcases how Brown has made clever use of the backing soundtrack, which becomes especially clear in the last two stanzas.

Within the forgotten fifth stanza, it is described how instrumentalists and hummingbirds alike recognize their own inferiority to Malindy and stop playing, an interesting cut to consider when there is full musical backing in Brown and Lincoln’s version. This is an interesting paragraph to have lost, when considering the moment in the song during which Lincoln sings “Oh, hit’s sweetah dan de music/ Of an educated band”. At this point (1:45-1:53) during the recording, the backing music swells and seems to almost groan slightly creating a dissonance. This paired with the lyrics suggests the change is stemming from a discomfort in their playing behind a line that seems to critique them. A sort of awkwardness arises at this moment. Continuing into the final stanza, after a long instrumental break with notably absent vocalese, Lincoln returns with a gruff voice, a talking tone used while she addresses “Towsah” to stop barking, and Mandy to calm a child. During this time, in contrast to her harsh voice, a flute seems to imitate a child laughing or puppy whining (3:10-3:30). Lincoln’s tough tone is a stark juxtaposition to the voice used beforehand, as well as the voice moved to for the rest of the poem– a call for the audience to listen. The final two lines are as gentle as their word choice and religious connotation; “Sof’ an’ sweet, ‘Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,/ Ez Malindy sings.” Further encouraging the blues form while emphasizing the sense of Malindy’s gentle cradling of the words, the piano can be heard emphasizing the notes to a short callback to the music of the referenced spiritual. 

Considering the overall impact of this morphing art piece mixing the aspects of sound and literature, the continuation of certain themes are clear. With Lincoln’s bravado in her vocalese at the end (3:40-4:00), it becomes clear she has claimed the persona of Malindy and is at once the narrator “between” the worlds, and the creator of the Black artist’s expression at once. 

Bibliography:

Oscar Brown Jr; Paul Lawrence Dunbar, When Malindy Sings, with Abbey Lincoln, 1961, disc 1, track 15.

Dunbar, Paul Laurence. When Malindy Sings. United States: Dodd, Mead, 1904.

In the years following the New Orleans birth of jazz, the popularity of the music caused it to travel vast distances. Chicago and New York became epicenters of music as the Great Migration moved artists out of New Orleans. This movement opened doors to jazz, allowing great mobility across previously limiting factors such as space, time, and social differences. 

During this time period, music became highly mobile, yet whether or not this liberation was more beneficial or detrimental varies greatly with circumstances. With the rise of sound and video recordings, performances could be enjoyed any distance from the original source, whether it be a physical distance, time difference, or social difference. Radio allowed for jazz to spread and become even more of a cultural phenomenon both nationally and internationally. Although recordings admittedly forced condensation of pieces onto the limited technology of the time (thus minimizing both the quality and duration of the piece), it allowed for both a greater audience and pool of other artists to listen to, benefiting jazz in many ways. Of course, there was also great exploitation accompanying this broadcasting. Mary Lou Williams writes with an offhanded tone about the grip certain figures held on the jazz scene; “I heard that Count Basie later worked for the same Dracula, and also had a slight misunderstanding. As a result, Basie had to work two weeks without pay.” It is clear that these “misunderstandings” were frequent and costly across the scene as artists would be taken advantage of by their business partners. 

Video recordings such as soundies at the Cotton Club were also highly exploitive. In one titled Shine from 1932 soundie Rhapsody in Black and Blue, Louis Armstrong performs in shocking minstrelsy; dressed in jungle-fashioned clothing, Armstrong and cast sing and act out a stunningly racist soundie, before Armstrong plays the trumpet with an enthralling passion that seems serious and genuine in contrast to the mocking racism he had encompassed seconds earlier. The act of signifying is clear here as Armstrong both participates and actively subverts the act of minstrelsy in one fell swoop, making the impact incredibly powerful and moving. It is unclear to anyone other than Armstrong himself whether he is more signaling against the racist media or disrupting the caricature he has been playing.

Minstrelsy was far from uncommon in these soundies and the jazz scene in general. To find any real success, an artist would have to navigate these tricky waters. Even within songs themselves, in example “I’ve got rhythm”, astonishingly racist stereotypes and tropes are apparent. The visibility of this racism makes it all the more visible the degree to which racism did not simply have a grip on the music industry, but rather was within the roots. 

During this time period of the Great Migration, there was a large influx of musicians to the cities of New York and Chicago, which were in turn growing bigger jazz scenes. However, looking at the mobility allowed for the music, it becomes more clear that these musicians were often not afforded the same freedom to easily cross distances, times, or social barriers. Too often would musicians anticipate easy success only to fail bitterly. Louis Armstrong was thriving in New Orleans, but even so refused to go north to Chicago until he was summoned by King Oliver, as he mentions so many before him had failed. 

“I had made up my mind that I would not leave New Orleans unless the King had sent for me. I would not risk leaving for anyone else. I had seen too many of my pals leave  home and come back in bad shape.” 

Mary Lou Williams similarly struggled with the barriers restricting ability. Discussing the distaste for the TOBA system through which musicians would find work, she explains “the initials stand for Theater Owners’ Booking Association– or, to us who had to work it, ‘Tough on Black Artists’” Segregated facilities and Jim Crow made it incredibly difficult for Black artists to travel on these circuits, further restricting the artists while they would see their music spread internationally. This divide between the artists and their music would become more apparent and cause an array of different effects. 

This movement was necessary for jazz and its artists to grow and develop, as it both promoted the music and increased the audience for musicians, and also widened the window of influence for musicians. However this newfound mobility was also capable of causing great damage. There was minstrelsy ingrained in performances and exploitation of artists. There was extreme sexism and racism in the treatment of artists. There was real danger facing the artists at many different turns. 

While this new development and movement of jazz throughout places such as New York, Chicago, and Kansas City allowed for more growth and fame for many artists, the exploitation of artists was a very real threat. Aside from the glaring racism and minstrelsy artists were forced to endure, jazz’s growing popularity made the music and musicians vulnerable to an array of hazards. From skeevy managers to other artists who would buy and resell music with their own names, the jazz scene was rife with exploitation and theft at every turn. 

The racism was everywhere and mixed with the predatory nature of artists and managers to create a dangerous environment. Minstrelsy such as that seen in many of Armstrong’s performances was essentially an expectation of black artists, giving their skill a secondary notice. 

In the case of the International Sweethearts the treatment they faced as young black girls was abhorrent and traumatizing. The racism and sexism they encountered was rooted in their experience as a touring group of young (for the most part) black girls. Police presence was consistent, with the police often “trying to spot the white band members… It was a constant worry in the minds of the girls that, despite all their precautions, one of their number might be taken away at any time, not for any wrongdoing but simply because of her color.” In order to perform their music, they endured constant worrying and threats in combination with great acclaim and success for their performances.

The music eventually became more mobile than the artists themself. With this new technology, the music could travel more distances than the artists due to the pure nature of recordings, but the recordings’ detachment from the artists themselves also allowed them more freedom. In the case of the Black musicians, it is clear to see how restrained they continued to be, while their music was more freed. Although some, notably Armstrong, Ellington and Count Basie, managed to escape more than others, there were so many who were immobilized by the rules, codes, and norms of institutionalized racism. 

The results of movement were as varied as the travels of music itself. Musicians were liable to find great acclaim and success, horrifying racism and mistreatment, devastating failure, and often a mix of all that mirrors America.

Sources:

Armstrong, L. (1996). Reading Jazz (1302296701 958370625 R. Gottlieb, Author). New York: Random House. (Satchmo, (1954))

Williams, ML. (1996). Reading Jazz (1302296701 958370625 R. Gottlieb, Author). New York: Random House. (Melody Maker, (1954))

McPartland, M. (1996). Reading Jazz (1302296701 958370625 R. Gottlieb, Author). New York: Random House. (All in Good Time, (1987))

Aubrey Scotto. A RHAPSODY IN BLACK AND BLUE. USA, 1932.

In one’s reading of the lives and experiences of jazz musicians, the reader will find all kinds of things, as musicians compete with each other, try to better themselves, and evolve the world of jazz as a whole. In a world of jazz that was growing and creating such cultural influence, many artists had strong opinions on their music and the response to it, many feeling they were overlooked and didn’t feel they got a due amount of acclaim. Jelly Roll Morton’s racism and distaste towards black musicians of New Orleans is a harsh example of this reaction. His internalized racism mixing with his impressive self image led to his distaste of black musicians but his sense that he was different from the others. As Lomax claims, “Jelly Roll’s whole life was constructed around his denial of his Negro status” (Lomax, 218). When Papa Sona helps him to get a job through Voodoo, Morton describes the events, always distancing himself from the folk craft, although it obviously would be something with which he would be familiar as a Creole man from New Orleans. This refusal to admit to knowledge or partaking in this cultural tradition furthers the separation Morton creates for himself. 

While Morton’s racism is horrifying, a closer look at the culture of the jazz scene gives clues of how he could arrive at this attack. Readings from Sidney Bechet and Jelly Roll Morton, as well as those of jazz fans like Dr Edmond Souchon demonstrate the extent to which certain attitudes and aspects of competition are integral to the art form. From the wider roots of a competitive culture in New Orleans clubs and bucking contests to the audacious claims of self-praise to the evolution of artists and the culture behind the music as a whole. 

With the tracing of modern-day jazz back to New Orleans, the scene was competitive since its beginnings in jazz clubs and whore houses. Jelly Roll Morton describes his efforts to get a job as something inherently at another player’s downfall; “a maid from Miss Burt’s house walked in and said their regular piano player was sick. ‘Would I like to make a few dollars?’” (Gottlieb p6). Morton would not regularly have wished ill on the previous player, but was required to in order to encourage and enable his own music. 

At the time while there were indeed the parades and second lines where everyone would join, there was still this pervasive competition between artists, as Sidney Bechet mentions the bucking contests between different clubs. The mere existence of these clubs at the time implies that there was always a definitive sense of an in-crowd versus an out-crowd. These contests have a harsh name, as “bucking” draws to mind an image of a horse violently ejecting its rider, which is fascinating in contrast to the lively nature and friendliness Bechet describes; “the men in [the jazz clubs], waiting for that parade to start, they’d all have that excited feeling, knowing they could play good, that they was going to please the people who would be about there that day.” (Gottlieb 14). Morton describes the competitions of pianists in the after hours clubs, when people of all races, backgrounds, and walks of life would come together to enjoy the music. While the performers were competing, they were overall creating an atmosphere of camaraderie and inclusion. 

Attitudes play a large role in the music of jazz as a whole, as has become clear, many of the musicians lauded today had eccentric personalities. The ego of the jazz musician is especially well documented in the case of Jelly Roll Morton. With his roots as believing his success was in no way due to Papa Sona, to his elaborate diamonds during the height of his fame. While Morton’s music created a name for himself, his grandiose claims of having invented jazz himself certainly gained him attention and thus acclaim. Decades later Muhammad Ali similarly asserted himself to be the greatest far before he had any evidence to support this claim. For Ali, this claim allowed him opportunities to prove it into existence. With Morton, these claims also grabbed the attention of his audience. Though Morton was already quite established at the time of these claims, his audacity in making such claims would definitely have encouraged jazz fans to give his music another listen, or give him more attention in general. Ali’s poetry shares similarities with jazz in his use of repetition and wordplay, suggesting the two are similar. Rappers of today have continued this trend of self-proclamation, which continues to enthral the audiences. 

As “repetition with a twist” is at the essence of jazz, from AAB lyrics to the general formation of music, it makes sense that constant evolution would be present. While any artist would aspire to hone their craft, jazz artists seem to do so in almost a self-competition. With competition so ingrained in the history and culture of jazz, it seems that performers such as Joe “King” Oliver and Sidney Bechet would have little control over how their music was destined to change drastically throughout their careers. As Dr Edmond Souchon recalls the change he noticed as a lifetime follower of Oliver, he notes that “In Chicago Joe Oliver was already on his way out. Instead of realizing the treasure that was his in playing New Orleans music, he was trying to sound like a big white band” (345 Gottlieb). Particularly interesting of this quote is Souchon’s notice of how Oliver’s musical abilities trended downward as he reached higher acclaim. Writing of Oliver’s motivation for such change, Souchon asks, “perhaps it was a desire to ‘improve’ (let’s not use the word ‘progress’”(Gottlieb 345). This distinction in word choice highlights Souchon’s point that although there is a definite “evolve or perish” mindset, the product is not always increasing in quality and authenticity. 

A key to jazz’s beauty is the way in which all parts are tied together: of the different parts within the music, of the history, and of the genre as a whole. It is fascinating this truth is able to coexist with the competition inherent in the world of jazz. The competition verges on unhealthy at times, and is fully problematic when leading to Morton’s racism for example. Despite this dark underbelly, this culture and the open mindedness and collaboration grows from it as well. This competition gives rise to the opportunities for growth and collaboration allowing jazz to remain such a cultural phenomenon. Of course, without a bucking contest or invested artists or crowd, the second line would not have existed as it is known today.

Gottlieb, Robert. Reading Jazz: a Gathering of Autobiography, Reportage, and Criticism from 1919 to Now. Vintage Books, 1999. 

Lomax, Alan. Mister Jelly Roll. Virgin, 1991.