Jazz: A History of America's Music (review)

Jazz: A History of America's Music. By Geoffrey C. Ward. Based on a documentary film by Ken Burns. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2000. [x, 489 p. ISBN 0-679-44551-X. $65.]

During its early years, jazz shared the American stage with light entertainment and comedy. In such company it frequently drew scorn from exponents of high culture. To be sure, aficionados rhapsodized about the music, and sympathetic outsiders offered "fair-minded" defenses. But such commentary tended paradoxically to reinforce the widespread impression that, ultimately, jazz lacked the substance of "serious" music. Otherwise, why would it need so much cheerleading? When jazz entered its modern phase after World War II, writers like Ralph Ellison and Gunther Schuller addressed the music more calmly and incisively, clearing the path for mainstream acceptance. In the 1980s and 1990s, the academy embraced jazz, while institutions like Lincoln Center and Carnegie Hall celebrated the music with concert series.

This line of development makes Jazz: A History of America's Music read like something of a contradiction, a work both up-to-date and anachronistic. The book is the literary version of Jazz, Ken Burns's well-known documentary film. Funded by thirteen eminent foundations and advised by a board of twenty-one experts, Burns produced, in his words, "the most comprehensive treatment of jazz ever committed to film" (p. ix). The book is even more comprehensive. The main writer, Geoffrey C. Ward, has compiled a vast bibliography, including recent dissertations, scholarly articles--even "unedited transcripts" of a Louis Armstrong interview. Adopting an essentially biographical narrative strategy, Ward portrays the musicians vividly, supplying little-known anecdotes and quotations. Taking advantage of the more expansive medium of print, he includes details not used in the film. Separate contributions by Wynton Marsalis, Dan Morgenstern, Gerald Early, Gary Giddins, Albert Murray, and Stanley Crouch impart authority to the work as a whole. Readers will especially appreciate the beauty, rarity, and variety of the visual images.

While generally accurate in their presentation of the facts, however, Burns and Ward falter in their interpretation. Indeed, notwithstanding the large bibliography, one cannot help wondering whether the authors harbor an animus--or indifference --toward traditional scholarship. Of fifty-eight interview subjects listed in the film's promotional literature, only two are designated "historians"; most of the rest are musicians or critics. Not surprisingly, the book reflects little current scholarly opinion on the historical development of jazz. Instead, it inexplicably reveals all the signs of infatuation, insecurity, or dogmatism so typical of early jazz journalism. Thus, the reader encounters an apologetic tone, exaggerated praise of leading players, an obfuscating, romantic mythology, and a mystical fixation on improvisation, swing, and the blues as the sine qua nons of jazz.

By his own account, Burns is a newcomer to jazz, having known little about it before making the film. His enthusiasm for the music is clearly genuine, imbuing both film and book with an evangelical fervor. Readers hoping for a more critical treatment, however, will be put off by his sycophantic tribute to jazz musicians in the book's introduction: "jazz is the story of . . . dozens of extraordinary human beings . . . protean geniuses . . . who . . . took enormous risks, shouldered unimaginable responsibility, and are able to do what the rest of us can only dream of: create art on the spot" (p. ix). A similar problem arises in Ward's discussions of individual musicians. When introducing a major figure, he often measures his or her "genius." Armstrong's genius was "unrivalled" (p. 38), while Charlie Parker's was "incontestable," if not as influential as Armstrong's or Duke Ellington's (p. 306). But used so promiscuously, the concept of genius ages rapidly, even when it is justified. If the authors wanted to persuade readers of a musician's brilliance, they would have been better off showing how the player was great and trusting the music to confirm the point.

The appearance of inflated claims also mars the book's central theme--that...