Don't Let Jazz Fade Into The Background

By CHUCK OWEN
Jazz remains one of the few American art forms almost universally viewed with admiration (at times bordering on awe) by those outside this country. Despite increasing foreign hostility toward everything American, my recent travels on behalf of the International Association for Jazz Education (IAJE) to such far-flung locales as Europe, South Africa and Malaysia confirmed that jazz, while recognized universally as the cultural emblem of the United States, transcends divisive politics and continues to be received with great enthusiasm.
As synonymous with America as the bald eagle, baseball, or Mark Twain, jazz serves as the ultimate diplomat, proudly espousing and showcasing the freedom, individualism and democratic traditions we hold so dear in each riff and rhythm.
Yet, at home, within the country that can claim the birthright of this musical heritage, jazz is, ironically, in greater danger than ever of falling off the radar screen of the average American.
Jazz, from its earliest beginnings, has struggled to overcome obstacles ranging from the ignorance and artistic elitism of some of its critics to blatant racism. Amazingly, the music has survived, proving time and again to be remarkably resilient, confident and proud of its heritage, uncompromising in its standards, yet adaptable to its time and environment. Why, today, is jazz facing an even tougher fight?
The problem is, with each passing year, more and more Americans seem to have less and less contact with the music. At first, this would seem to be something of an enigma as technological advances, from digital music services to satellite radio and cable TV have resulted in a greater availability of jazz content than ever before. Yet the nature of this technology, which allows consumers to wrap themselves in a cocoon of their own choosing, actually serves to isolate individuals from anything they don't already know or like.
Conversely, when millions of Americans tuned into network television of decades past and Ed Sullivan, Johnny Carson, the Grammy Awards, or any number of other variety shows presented an artist such as Dizzy Gillespie, a huge population with no previous exposure to jazz instantly had an opportunity to glimpse and be touched by the effervescence of this musical genius. Sadly, these and so many other points of casual contact with the public are diminishing steadily as jazz clubs disappear and jazz radio programming has decreased or has been relegated to late-night hours.
The essential role and importance of jazz education, given these challenges, has never been more obvious or critical. Individual educators as well as music, educational, and arts associations must, therefore, renew efforts to make certain that all students receive grounding in the concepts, history, and artists that define jazz. In addition, they must be given multiple opportunities to actively experience and engage with the music throughout their formative years. To truly address these concerns, however, jazz education will need a number of partners to step up as well. Congress must substantially increase federal funding to the National Endowment for the Arts (today's budget remains $50 million less than in 1992!). Corporations and prominent patrons of the arts need to consider sponsorships of jazz organizations just as they underwrite local symphonies, art museums and dance companies. Newspapers need to place jazz coverage at least on par with other arts coverage. Record companies, artist agencies and others in the "business" need to recognize the value of collectively working together to reach out and develop the audience for jazz.
"Keep Jazz Alive!" This well-worn, well-intentioned but, ultimately, misguided phrase is frequently heard in relation to the importance of jazz education. Well, make no mistake - jazz is alive! It is vibrantly alive and relevant; not only in the recordings and compositions of its past masters - the ebullience of Louis Armstrong, the swinging elegance of Duke Ellington, the moody lyricism of Miles Davis and the passionate spiritualism of John Coltrane - but also in the hands of its current practitioners from Wynton Marsalis, Cassandra Wilson and Wayne Shorter to the Bad Plus, Bill Frisell, and so many, many others.
It's hard to envision, in fact, an art form that is more alive. Jazz artists have routinely sought to stretch stylistic boundaries with compositions steeped not only in the jazz tradition but also drawing freely from sources as diverse and eclectic as Indian ragas, hip-hop, flamenco, minimalism, and many, many other musical genres. It's an art form that embraces improvisation (by its very definition "in the moment") and is a constant source of adventure for musician and audience alike. Now, that's alive!
This is not a plea to save jazz. The passionate musicians and fans who find their way to it will ensure its survival in spite of meager funding, poor exposure and public apathy. But is survival all we really want for this vibrant music that so defines our country's values and heritage?
Chuck Owen, a Distinguished University Professor at the University of South Florida and artistic director of USF's Center for Jazz Composition, is president of the International Association for Jazz Education.

Insight to the performance mindset of a professional trombonist

[This article has a classical perspective but the same principles apply to any musical or theatre performance]

State of Grace

By Eddie Silva
22 Dec 2006

St. Louis Symphony principal trombonist Tim Myers describes the performance mindset.

Tim Myers joined the orchestra in 1983 and it's safe to say that it has become a central part of his life since then. He met his wife, first violin Dana Edson Myers, here; they had their first conversation on an SLSO tour. The Myerses now have two sons who are both cellists: Peter attends the Colburn School in Los Angeles and Henry goes to a local middle school where he is also involved in the theater.
Tim Myers is an avid rock climber who spends his summers assaulting peaks in Colorado. And, interestingly enough, he's an asthmatic, which makes all of his accomplishments — especially being principal trombone of a major symphony orchestra — even more impressive and inspiring.
Recently, Playbill caught up with Myers to discuss the musician's experience — becoming one with an orchestral performance, the advantages of not being aware, and the nuts and bolts of playing Bolero.

Playbill: Describe what it feels like, as a musician onstage, when all the elements of a performance come together.
Tim Myers: There is a kind of a mental state — I would even say a physical state or a complete-being state — when you're not asking questions, you're making statements. You're just doing it. The fall Carnegie Hall concert last season was one performance where that happened.
Playbill: Do you get that feeling from the very start?
Myers: Pretty much. It has to start with "I'm ready to go." Then after a certain moment I realize I haven't been analyzing, I haven't been thinking about whether I'm together with the trumpets. I've just been doing it. It's actually pretty cool.
In general, composers use the trombones as a coloristic thing or as a special statement. We're very rarely the focus. There's a Schumann symphony, the Third, which has five movements, and in the first three we don't play anything. Then at the beginning of the fourth movement there's suddenly this big focus on the trombones: a musical picture of the cathedral in Cologne. It goes really high and we're really exposed. It requires a lot of concentration and a lot of not panicking before it comes in. You're sitting for 25 minutes and then you come in for the big event.
I find for a piece like that especially, I have to be part of the entire performance. When the downbeat comes I have to be there, participating in the music even though I don't have any notes to play, so when it comes time to play I've been with it the whole time. Most of the time that really works.
Playbill: It was once said of the great jazz trombonist J. J. Johnson that he knew everything there was to know about the trombone, and when he played, he forgot everything he knew.

Tim Myers
photo by Scott Ferguson/FK Photo

Myers: If I graph my performance life, from my earliest days of performing there wasn't that much self-awareness. I just did it. It must have been okay. But then I figured out there were things I needed to work on and I became very self-aware. And sometimes that mental state of being aware would affect my confidence. Then I would have to return to the just-doing-it state by assimilating the skills and issues — most of which were psychological — to the point where it was reflexive enough.
That's not to say there's no thoughtfulness or awareness. For example, Bolero is one of those career-busters for a first trombonist. If you can't do it, you probably shouldn't be there. I've talked to people about measuring my career in Boleros: How many more Boleros can I do? When I play Bolero I have to do it a certain way. I have to start blowing air through my horn when the tenor sax is playing to get my horn warmed up. Then, ten bars before I play, I start getting the instrument ready. Two measures before — with the snare-drum interlude — I have to start taking the breath — a very long, slow breath. I slowly form the embouchure so I'm really set. I have to make it a habit. At this point it's almost a ritual. And, once I start, it's like a really good batter — when he sees the ball coming it's this big. I have to look at all those notes as if they're whole notes and I'm going right at the middle of them. I can even miss a little bit and still have a good grip on it.
Playbill: What is the feeling when it's over?
Myers: It's hard to let go of the state. The piece is done, but it continues. It doesn't dissipate immediately. The best performances happen once all the verbal stuff goes away. The most simple instructions — "count," "watch" — are all that matter. There's no analyzing. If I'm trying to describe it then I'm not in the right place. It's a non-verbal place. And sometimes if it's really good the feeling is that I'm stunned. It's a very long diminuendo from the end of the performance to an everyday state.
Eddie Silva is the publications manager for the Saint Louis Symphony Orchestra.