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Give The Bad Plus A Break

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It is this honesty, this lack of irony and cynicism, this straightforward joy in making music as they hear it that is the real reason the Bad Plus are attracting so much attention.
A pretty little girl, maybe 4 years old or so, dances and twirls to the music, long blond hair flying. Her mother sits nearby, watchful that she doesn't bump into any of the audience members enjoying the show. A dreadlocked man at the adjacent table leans over to the little dancer, points to the hyperkinetic drummer up on the stand, and asks a question that, though inaudible due to the volume of the band, is clear enough: "Is that your daddy?". With obvious pride, the girl gives her interlocutor a smile and 3 big nods of her head, and then quickly resumes her joyful whirling. David King's daughter is blissed-out on The Bad Plus, and so, unanimously, are the other 200 patrons on this fine April evening in the Duck Room of Blueberry Hill in St. Louis.

A troll through the Bad Plus's press, however, uncovers some dissenters amongst the mostly good reviews, the latter of which range from polite to positively messianic. A recent cover story in the major print magazine Jazz Times is a case in point: a mostly positive article was followed by two doubtful reviews of their new album, Give. The first furiously panned the record, but didn't reserve its disdain for the music: it also launched ad hominem attacks on the band members and its audience. The second review was generally positive but still wondered aloud whether the band was getting so much attention because the musicians are white. If the Bad Plus enjoyed something of a honeymoon with the jazz press following their Columbia debut, These Are The Vistas , then that honeymoon is over, and the backlash is in full swing.

This reaction might be predicted following a cursory listen to Give. The new album is even louder than the last, with more rock-ish production by Tchad Blake than Vistas sported. On many tunes, King plays a 4/4 backbeat or does his "human drum machine" routine, and only really swings in an orthodox sense on a couple of tracks. And while the band plays its first jazz "cover" (Ornette Coleman's "Street Woman", which no jazzer would dare argue with), the rock tunes, including a rather literal "Iron Man" (by sludge-metal godfathers Black Sabbath) are more bombastic this time around.

Unfortunately, a cursory listen seems to be all that the Jazz Times writers gave Give. Or at least that is a reasonable conclusion, considering that most of their review space is given over to extramusical issues: what the band looks like, who their fans are, where they play their gigs, and in which magazines they appear. A typical example is their week-long residence at the Village Vanguard, which one of the magazine's reviewers doesn't think they "deserved", seeing as a bunch of his favorite lesser-known artists who "should" be playing there don't. He states this is because those artists "can't fill the place for two sets over six consecutive nights like the Bad Plus can. In the end, it's not about black or white—it's about green." Really? You mean the Village Vanguard is not primarily a charitable incubator and nurturer of fragile, struggling, "authentic" (read: unpopular) jazz musicians, but is actually a commercial establishment whose goal, not to mention whose requisite for continued existence, is to fill seats and sell drinks? What a shock.

This is yet another example of the jazz "elite"'s long-standing mistrust of popularity. To many, it is simply impossible that large numbers of people can appreciate really great new jazz; if it is widely-liked, it must somehow be soft-pedaled stuff. Heaven forbid that the Bad Plus should play music that lots of people enjoy, or should (gasp!) chat with the audience, explaining the interesting stories behind their tunes. Better, apparently, to maintain your hipster jazz cool, perhaps while turning your back to the crowd?

While there are innumerable cases of lightweight "popular" artists hamming it up while purveying a watered-down version of jazz, the Bad Plus is not one of them. There is nothing lightweight about their joyously cacophonous version of "Street Woman", or about originals such as the propulsive "Cheney Piñata", the poignant and quirky "Frog and Toad", or the mysteriously lovely "Neptune (The Planet)". Seeing the band in a live setting drove home the real reason that they are generating such excitement, both within and without the insular world of jazz: they connect with their audience in a meaningful way. It is this connection that is the most appropriate comparison with the Rock music world, even more than their choice of covers, and it is the real reason why Rolling Stone and other publications who don't focus on jazz are writing about the band (by the way, this coverage in the rock press is another big gripe of the Jazz Times review, although it is unclear how jazz getting wider exposure could possibly be bad, considering its paltry share of the CD market and its aging fanbase).


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