Great Debate: Can You Get Into Jazz?

By J.P. Gorman and Lexi Feinberg: 2007-04-24 08:50:37

Can You Get Into Jazz?

Yay!

-- J.P. Gorman

It’s been said that jazz is what happens when musicians are tired of entertaining an audience. There’s no denying it: Jazz can confound the uninitiated.

It isn’t always pretty (ahem, Bitches Brew), it doesn’t always come together, it’s not for the faint of heart, and it’s not for the attention-deficient. Sometimes, a jazz jam does end up being a bunch of musicians pleasing themselves and exercising talent with little regard for anyone paying attention. If used improperly, it’s a format rife with opportunity for self-indulgence and boring, pointless soloing (not to mention pedantic, meandering, self-important monologues from genre die-hards).

But if one can detach from the need for instant gratification and follow the musicians on their journey, jazz provides an opportunity to experience something truly remarkable. Not remarkable in the “Hey, that was a lot of fun” sense; remarkable in the “Holy shit, what the fuck was that and how did it happen?” sense.

Jazz stands diametrically opposed to the three-minute pop song, music that always verges on the ridiculous, the sublime, even the frightening. When good performers are locked in, they transcend the time and space in which they sit and connect to something else entirely. Jazz might be the only (and was certainly the first) genre truly in touch with this rarified air, as it is based on the musical premise that once performers get working, literally anything can and should happen.

The genre started as an evolutionary leap in musical composition and performance. The quicker one realizes this fact, the quicker one can begin to understand and learn to appreciate the seemingly formless music.

Words can’t do it justice, though: Jazz can’t really be defined, nor can it really be explained. It’s just sort of there for the taking, whenever the individual listener is ready to explore.

Nay!

-- Lexi Feinberg

Jazz music has always been like the opera, ballet or a history museum to me: It warrants my respect, but I sure don't want to spend an afternoon basking in the glory of it.

Or a half hour, for that matter.

Determined to change my mind about jazz (sometimes music, like people, can grow on you), I went to a small NYC club called Village Vanguard a few months ago. It's been around since 1935 and features jazz in its purest, non-progressive form. At first when the band started jamming on the drums, sax and piano, I was surprisingly enticed--but then my attention started to wane. As usual.

The one song that stood out for me was a jazzy rendition of "How Deep Is Your Love," which I instantly recognized. But that's part of why I can't get into the music--it's generally improvised, incohesive, not the type of beat you can follow. To this effect, the instruments remind me of the overlapping, unstructured way that people talk in a Woody Allen movie. You have to focus on one thing at a time to truly enjoy it; otherwise, it's just a cacophony of isolated concepts.

That's not to say that jazz is without its merits--music as a whole would be nowhere without it (in modern terms, Norah Jones and Amy Winehouse wouldn't have careers … oh the horror!). It's impossible to acknowledge music greats without mentioning Miles Davis. And, with the possible exception of Kenny G, the genre has left an overwhelmingly positive impact.

But, as it stands, blues music is my preferred flavor of "devil's music." I can listen to that for hours straight and still be disappointed when the musicians slink off the stage. With jazz, I'm just left feeling disappointed with myself for still not enjoying it.

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