Elmore Magazine - Kickin’ in Your Stall

Wednesday August 2nd, 2000 @ 8:58 PM

Filed under: Everything, Publications

Jazz vs. Blues

I’m always being asked innocently by acquaintances and relatives what kind of music my band plays. When I say blues they almost always smile in delight as though we’ve made an unanticipated connection. “I love blues,” a friend declares with sincere enthusiasm. “My uncle played in a jazz band when I was a kid. We went to hear him in the City Park one time.”

What?

How am I supposed to respond without sarcasm? Let’s see: “Gee, we must be soul brothers, let’s go over to your house and listen to your Thelonious Monk collection, now there’s a blues man if I ever heard one.”

Here’s some other choice connections: “Five years ago we went to the Bluegrass festival in Telluride…I love blues, my favorite band is Moody Blues…or Blues Traveler…I like the old blues like Janis Joplin and Led Zeppelin…”

If you asked Americans to name one blues singer, almost all of them would say, B.B. King. If you asked them to name two, they’d probably throw in either Dan Ackroyd or one of the Belushi brothers. If you asked for a third, you might get any damned suggestion from Bo Bice to Tiny Tim, or they might just give up and defer to their uncle who plays jazz at the city park.

I’m going to be incredibly kind and forgive the ignorance of those who mistake Bluegrass for Blues, or those who think Moody Blues is a Blues band. Why? Because, after all, the word blue is a commonality. Not everybody is Sherlock Holmes.

But why do we lump Jazz and Blues together as one genre? Most jazz guys I know view blues as simple and primitive and way too easy for their sophisticated skills. Most blues men I know think jazz is musical chatter or clutter and devoid of emotion. Not all. Some jazz musicians join blues jams in an attempt to have soul. Some blues musicians play jazz in an attempt to prove they have brains. Occasionally I even find someone who is skilled at and loves both, but rarely. The old adage that jazz is the music of the head and blues is the music of the heart, if true, would explain the bifurcation.

If you don’t think the aficienados know the difference, consider that I once tried to audition my band in a jazz club in Denver. The owner was old and cranky. “Blues!” He exclaimed indignantly, as though I’d handed him a stinky diaper. “This is a goddamned jazz club. Haven’t had a blues band in the entire history of the place.” He said it defiantly, as though he had successfully defended against the barbaric hordes from the Russian Steppes. “Whaduyuh want my customers to hang me back in the alley?

I trudged out of the place wondering why I felt like I did when they wouldn’t let me into advanced Algebra. Of course the reason I wanted in was that the girl from whose paper I always cheated was headed there. But I have a point to make. What makes music good or bad is the craftsmanship, not the genre. Somewhere inside it should be melody, phrasing, originality, soul, dynamics, and technique. And we, as the American public, should seek and reward those qualities.

If instead we are content to applaud wildly in a Karaoke bar for some poor pilgrim singing Patsy Cline’s “Crazy,” and define that as quality entertainment, then we deserve what we get. Not being able to distinguish blues from bluegrass or jazz is akin to thinking all wines are just “booze.” Not being able to distinguish the quality music of any genre from the cheap and dismal is like pouring a glass of Ripple into a vintage Cabernet Sauvignon, and declaring with a burp, “It ain’t that bad!”

Posted by Carl