When saxophonist Don Menza attended SUNY Fredonia in the early sixties, the practice rooms were adorned with signs reading "No Jazz Playing." A decade later, when I attended the same institution, no formal jazz was taught, but I did participate in a student-run jazz ensemble which did not carry any credit. A few years ago, when my daughter attended the same SUNY school, a student could complete a music degree with a concentration in jazz studies, and there were elective courses in jazz improvisation, jazz history, jazz theory, jazz teaching methods, and a variety of jazz ensembles to pursue, all for legitimate credit toward the degree.
For the working jazz musician over the same period of time, the landscape broadened in a similarly spectacular fashion. In the mid-sixties, already legendary musicians might be seen playing in small clubs, for thimble-sized crowds. The singer Joe Williams was one such example. But by 1988 Joe's career achievements were recognized and deemed worthy of an honorary doctorate degree from Hamilton College. Fellow honorees that year were a tectonic geologist, a historian, a theologist and an historical preservation specialist, so Joe was in good company. In 1996 a documentary was filmed about Joe's life.
Several of the musicians in JoAnn Krivin's photographs also received honorary doctorates from my institution, Hamilton College, during the eighties and nineties: Milt Hinton, Joe Wilder, Joe Williams, Clark Terry and Kenny Davern. Undoubtedly all these musicians experienced the chill of the thinly-crowded club in the sixties. How the jazz musician plays has not changed much over these years, but performance opportunities, the composition of the audience and how the musician is perceived seem light years apart.
We now recognize jazz as an art form. It is taught and learned in a systematic fashion. Classic bebop solos are transcribed and studied from a harmonic standpoint in an attempt to dissect note choices and thought process. Across the country thousands of students graduate with jazz degrees and expectantly step into society seeking work. We are seeing a generation of jazz musicians who have come up bypassing the traditional live scene of learning their craft. Jazz graduates are now taught by jazz graduates. While some mourn the loss of an on-the-job teaching and learning environment, others view the teaching and playing opportunities afforded by colleges as the gold standard of gigs.
At times though, both the college professor and the recognized performer envy each other's position. The professor pines for the life of the established jazz artist, making recordings, traveling the country, playing gigs and having a working band. The road warrior envies the professor's solid paycheck, health insurance, paid vacations and secure future.
During the years of JoAnn's documentation of jazz personalities, we saw a proliferation of organizations spring up which advanced jazz causes and allowed like-minded individuals to interface on jazz topics. The International Association of Jazz Educators, the Jazz Journalists Association and Jazz at Lincoln Center come to mind. Jazz camps for students young and old appeared, and there were jazz cruises for serious listeners. Formal jazz education programs arose at both logical and unlikely places, from the doctorate level down through grade school, where programs teach youngsters to improvise before they learn to read music. For the avid amateur, local ensembles sprouted in community centers where rehearsal bands allowed individuals to test and hone their improvising skills.
Though jazz is now recognized as an art form, jazz artists have noted both positive and negative trends. Most striking of the positives was the recognition of jazz as an intellectual movement with the resultant opportunities for professionals to play in art centers and creative outlets beyond traditional smoky nightclubs. At Carnegie Hall, you are now as likely to see a concert by Itzak Perlman as by Sonny Rollins, with comparable ticket prices. Libraries, collections and archives (such as mine, founded in 1995) proliferated in urgent recognition of the need to preserve the history rapidly being lost as the pioneers of the art form passed.
Reason would suggest that increased jazz exposure at every level would correlate with an increase in jazz record sales, but this has not been the case. Jazz record sales have been static at around three percent of the pie, and this includes both reissues and smooth jazz. Other surprising trends negatively correlated with an increase in jazz awareness include a decrease in the number of jazz clubs, sky-high cover charges, and the "live" experience being filtered through in-house TV monitors in those clubs. Not surprising, however, is the massive increase in cookie cutter sound coming from jazz graduates resulting from the use of similar teaching methods. Most unfortunate of all the negative trends is the likelihood of eking out a living as a jazz performer for all but the previously-established masters and the rare few new artists anointed by record company executives.
Despite this dynamic landscape, a number of unwritten laws remain. Among the constants for successful jazz players is the ability to ride the blues, the training wheels of improvisation. Innovation of a unique sound will pave the way in one's inevitable search for the next gig. Bandstand etiquette, as ever, is a prerequisite for professionalism. And the bass player still gets the nod for a solo after walking 27 choruses of "Cherokee."
On the faces in the photographs in this collection are the passion and dedication to the art form called jazz. The images of concentration that occur during jazz artists' flights of improvisation lend themselves to photography. If you inquire about the thought process that enables these spontaneous creations, you may get ten different answers from ten musicians, including the response that there is no answer. The art of improvising engages the mind and body in a complicated path that is simultaneously impromptu yet purposeful. The note or phrase at any given moment is chosen to fit the chord (or not). It is played in a manner to mesh with the time (or not), and delivered with the desired amount of expression and weight. An improvising artist is recalling what he or she played one or eight measures before and making a choice to repeat it, play a variation, or create something new. Finally, the astute artist keeps in mind the end game: how many beats, measures or choruses until handing off this spontaneous melody to a bandmate.
JoAnn has documented these ineffable moments. We see Kenny Davern coaxing, squeezing and physically cajoling just the right note. Tommy Flanagan offers us the moment before striking a perfect chord. Andy Bey's expression telegraphs his satisfaction following the execution of an impeccable phrase. The passion is felt through the lens.
As the jazz environment evolves, the infatuation with the art form continues unabated. Listening to JoAnn's images brings the viewer into the jazz artist's thought process, and allows one to see the resultant joy and satisfaction from that process.
MONK ROWE