Louis "Satchmo" Armstrong

I would like to start, this time, with Martin Williams: not from his chapter on Armstrong, but on Bix Beiderbecke, subtitled: "The White Man's Burden." I'll restrain myself from quoting two whole pages, which is what I really want to do, but here are some of the most catching excerpts:
- 'One problem in any discussion of jazz and race involves a holdover liberal cliche from the 'thirties. Having heard so many racial generalizations that are destructive, demeaning, or absurd, we have become afraid of any kind of generalization. It might help to clarify matters to return to the well-worn phrase...that "Negroes have natural rhythm," which has become horrendous' (61-62). He makes the case for this argument in his introduction, as i refer to later...but to continue:
- 'But what if blacks did have "natural rhythm"? Would it be a sign of inferiority to have "natural rhythm"? Is it insulting to say that they have dark skin"?' I'm not sure this reasoning adds up... But, he knows I'm feeling that way, so he starts pulling at anything he can: "Does it imply an inability to treat Orientals as individuals to say they have black hair or brown eyes?...Is it not the truth, rather than a counterstatement, that shall make us free?" (62). Well...first, I would say check how your language provides a counterstatement to your own point. The nature of defining a group (especially, as in this case, a group he would call the "other" from his privileged position as white, male, jazz critic) necessarily projects some kind of group uniformity and unity onto a bunch of individuals by lumping them under one term. The thing is, he uses the word "Oriental," which has its roots in European imperialism and colonialism - he ends up sabotaging his own attempt at proving his "acceptance of all and hope for equality." Certainly there's more to be said...I don't have words at the moment. And I also acknowledge what I've analyzed in Williams' writing is from the future (relative to his writing), and provides a clarity that may not have been present at the time...though I can't help but think there is really no excuse for such language, and the thought that goes behind it. But then, that also gets into why he thought it was OK to mention justice in relation to his conversations about black male jazz artists - what did he think of his own role as a white jazz critic, who could be payed much money to listen to jazz and write about it, while many musicians were working jobs in addition to playing to make ends meet? Many questions. But, finally, for now:
- 'It would be perfectly easy to show that not all blacks have "natural" rhythm nor very good acquired rhythm necessarily.... Still, it seems to me perfectly valid to say... that black jazzmen in general have had fewer rhythmic problems than white jazzmen' (62-63) This, perhaps, could be easily explained with support from LeRoi Jones' Blues People. It's hard to say whether Williams' claim is essentializing a characteristic in black people, or whether he's just trying to explain the process of American socialization that African slaves and their descendents went through over generations (and what happened to their musical traditions and self expressions in the process) that included the blues, and thereby jazz, as part of daily life, not something to "do" as with white artists. In the intro (to The Jazz Tradition) he says, "My sense of human justice is not, I hope, dependent on the assumption that black men could not have a natural rhythm [Williams' italics]. Differences among peoples do not make for moral inequality or unworthiness, and a particular sense of rhythm may be as natural as a particular color of skin and texture of hair. No, it does no damage to my sense of good will toward men or my belief in the equality of men, I trust, to conclude that Negroes as a race have a rhythmic genius that is not like that of other races, and to concede that this genius has found a unique expression in the United States" (7-8). It's a bit ambiguous, but the last sentence does hint that perhaps he's following his argument backward through slavery to Africa. And it is here that Williams takes again from the tradition of white critics and writers, putting forth his idea without, apparently, feeling it necessary to support it with evidence or history. In the process, this time, he glazes over a vital topic - one that Jones more or less constructs an entire book, Blues People, around! - making no attempt to explain the process by which African rhythms (at the very least) evolved through the hundreds of years of slavery (not to mention how the musical traditions the enslaved West Africans brought with them were, first, forced to go through many changes to comply with the rules of slaveholders, and then also interacted with the European musical traditions present in the U.S., and further changed, post-Emancipation, as a result of class stratifications in black communities and differing ideological stances - allegiances to the white man, Jones may say, which watered down the blues (as it was a direct link to slavery, which they wanted to forget in order to assimilate) - which caused further shifts in blues and jazz styles, etc...) There is much dialogue to be analyzed between the two texts.

But, to get to the topic of my post...enter Louis Armstrong. To be honest, I knew little of him coming into this project. His was one of the first names I can recall connecting to jazz, and as a result, he's always held some gravity in relation to the style (however vague that was until now). Thus, it wasn't much of a surprise to read Szwed's assertion in Jazz 101: "Louis Armstrong is arguably the most important musician that the United States has ever produced" (109). Quite a large claim to make. Surely, to some that's the case. Hence, arguably, he occupies this position - but Szwed doesn't follow it up with a very strong argument for why this is the case.
On Armstrong's sound, coming into the project, I'd heard an album or two that my mom has, but I'm pretty sure it was his later stuff, mostly vocal, and I wasn't listening as actively as I have been throughout this last week or so. My difficulty now has been finding sources, and I feel any sense of the "sounds of the times" I've gleaned from listening is somewhat superficial. I'm ALSO listening to recorded remnants - single instances of the ongoing performance and innovation of these songs, which were never created to be recorded musics, but came out of expression, out of living life, as Jones argues.

The texts I looked at dealt with Armstrong in different ways. It seems he's almost so much of a star that some writers may not feel it necessary to describe in depth his contributions and his history. But also, they are very different in style - Jazz 101 is really, as I said in a previous post, a brief skimming of the surface of jazz styles, artists, and histories, while Blues People, on the other hand is a deep look at the roots of blues and jazz, the processes by which they were created and constantly recreated/reinterpreted, and the people involved in the process (not just artists, but the whole of black society and white society - and their changes through time). Williams on the other hand is the critic. He talks a bit about artists in their times, their styles and contributions, but then also song analysis.

So, to get to it:
Armstrong comes from New Orleans, playing first the cornet, then the trumpet. His style developed amidst the transition that Jones describes, brought about by the forced cohabitation (after segregation laws were passed at the turn of the century) of the Downtown black "middle class" (Creoles, gens de couleur, and mulattoes) with the Uptown black belt. "...It was the connections engendered by this forced merger that produced a primitive jazz. The black rhythmic and vocal tradition was translated into an instrumental music which utilized some of the formal techniques of European dance and march music" (139). (This is surely not the history of the origin of jazz, but one strain of what would later become known as such.) There were artists playing on riverboats, spreading the style up and down the Mississippi, but also local artists developing within New Orleans, and then also spreading their styles up to Northern cities like St. Louis and Chicago. Armstrong was one of these artists who made the move North, following his mentor, Joe "King" Oliver, who had moved up a few years earlier and established his own group, the Oliver Creole Jazz Band. Here is where Armstrong really began to shine, it seems - under the guidance of his mentor, and in the smaller ensemble-style groups.
Each text I refer to that directly addressed Armstrong and his influence mention how he brought with him a shift of focus. The solo artist became a focus for creators and listeners, leaving the coherence and shape of the entire band as more of an afterthought. This also reflected in music-making.

During this same period, a different class relation to blues and jazz was influencing the way Northern players created and played jazz. As Jones describes, 'By the late twenties a great many more Negroes were going to high school and college, and the experience of an American "liberal" education was bound to leave traces. The most expressive big bands of the late twenties and thirties were largely middle-class Negro enterprises. The world of the professional man had opened up, and many scions of the new Negro middle class who had not gotten through professional school went into jazz "to make money"' (160). What began with the classic blues singers, like Bessie Smith and Gertrude "Ma" Rainey, had by now become an established notion - that one could make a living off of music (and the performance of it, i.e. to white audiences).
These artists coming out of the black middle-class were most often classically trained, and could read music, they had "...moved away from the older lowdown forms of blues. Blues was not so direct to them, it had to be utilized in other contexts" (160).

How Armstrong relates to these college-educated artists - Duke Ellington, Coleman Hawkins, and Jimmie Lunceford are a few examples - is unclear in any of these texts. The only clear delineation is that they play in big-band styles and in a more strict scripted style, while Armstrong developed the smaller ensemble-style playing, bringing more of the blues improvisational style with him into his solos. But I feel like there must have been more crossover than I can see as of now. Williams brings this up: "...Louis Armstrong has been treated by some as a sort of embarrassment. He has functioned as a vaudevillian and, partly because he uses the stage manner that many black and white performers employed during the 'twenties and 'thirties, he has been dismissed as an Uncle Tom" (48). It is also understandable that people may view him as somewhat of a "sellout" based on Szwed's brief biography of him: "he was as well known in radio and motion pictures as he was on recordings and live performances, and later, during the Cold War, he toured for the State Department and became a spokesperson for the United States" (109) Based on the history that Jones provides, these assertions match up fairly well. Armstrong gave white America a black music they could enjoy. Either directly because of his own music and performances, singing and/or playing the trumpet, and/or through those he influenced - Bix Beiderbecke, to name one, was a white cornet player from Davenport, Iowa, who was captivated the first time he heard Armstrong play with King Oliver's band in 1923 (Jones, 147) - Armstrong's sounds were heard and praised by white listeners of jazz.

Perhaps the specifics of Amstrong's significance will become clear as I go further in my research, but, then again, Armstrong may not be the best focus. I've only just touched on the information held within Blues People (which will need to serve as a solid reference for any further work). I would like to look at how DeVeaux and Peretti interact with it in a future post, as Peretti brings a certain sociological lens, and DeVeaux's challenges to history and knowledge production may create a great discourse with Jones' research. In addition, I saw a great many parallels to the history of hip-hop represented in Jeff Chang's, Can't Stop, Won't Stop, in Jones' descriptions of blues and jazz in the United States. I'm greatly interested in teasing that out, and going further into the hip-hop realm. But really, they seem to have a lot of similar characteristics. As Jones puts it: "The Negro's music changed as he changed, reflecting shifting attitudes or (and this is equally important) consistent attitudes within changed contexts" (153, Jones' italics). This could provide the base form some interesting comparison to hip-hop. After reading Blues People, the mental image I have is looking a lot more like a continuum than various separate "genres," and I'm eager to see where that thought leads me.