Some of the musicians talk about the process they went through, without pinning labels on it. Drummer Will Lee recounts making a living as a rock-and-roll musician while studying jazz in school: "Somehow it made complete sense as the perfect fusion... I was so involved with jazz and so involved with rock, the two just met each other." Percussionist Narada Michael Walden cites long-time jazz drummer Louis Hayes as one of his earliest influences and inspirations, while placing Jimi Hendrix's drummer, Mitch Mitchell, on the same stage, "...because he had that freedom and strength, and yet he had that rock thing."

Ms. Coryell took the occasion of the re-publication of her book in 2000 to look back over the 20+ years that had passed since she first collected these conversations. What had happened to this JRF thing over that time? Was it worth all the noise and debate? Was it a dead-end? Was it a portal to something new? In her preface to the new edition, she notes: "There were critics who contended that the musicians had sold out by combining the elements of rock and jazz to form the musical hybrid which came to be known as fusion, but I do not agree. The intention wasn't to make commercial music, but to express what was felt and experienced intrinsically by those who had the opportunity to do it. The music is classic, it has withstood the test of time. The heyday of the fusion movement is over, but the music inspired a generation of musicians."

Ramsey Lewis, in his preface to the original edition, less than 10 years after Miles rocked the jazz world and jazzed up the rock world with In A Silent Way and Bitches Brew, reminds us finally that "Nothing is permanent, however. Even now, as this book is being published, the stage is being set for the next period. When and how it began, and what it will be called, we won't know until we look back at it."

There are many more musicians and groups who could have — perhaps should have — been included in the book. But Coryell has assembled an impressive range of instrumentalists, styles, and perspectives in her book. Maybe some of the missing names weren't available for her, maybe they didn't have anything publishable to say at the time, maybe some of them didn't care to talk or she didn't care to talk to them. She only mentions one gap, in her introduction: "It is regrettable," she says, "that we were not able to include the group the Crusaders, who were forerunners in the crossover movement. The Crusaders, originally known as the Jazz Crusaders, dropped the word Jazz from their name, a move which altered not only their image and music, but their record sales, where a substantial increase was experienced." But from my standpoint, what's really missing is contributions from people like drummer Bob Moses or saxophonist Jim Pepper, to name just a couple from the very earliest days of this enigmatic new movement. Moses has done a tremendous amount for the development of modern music, stretching its boundaries in both sound and meaning. And of course, there's the ground that Pepper opened up with his fusion — if we can use that word here — of Native American music and jazz; there's a whole new generation of jazz, rock, blues and even traditional Native American musicians and singers who name Pepper as a key influence. No matter — there's more than enough here for anyone interested in the serious music scene of the 1970s; combine this book with Wilmer's As Serious As Your Life, and you'll never again think of the 1970s as a musical wasteland.

Readers will find much in Coryell's Jazz-Rock Fusion to chuckle at, much to argue with, many occasions on which to say "Wow, I never thought of it that way , and much to learn. Laura Friedman's photos of the musicians, accompanying each interview, are excellent portraits of a very influential generation of jazz musicians — ranging from the impeccably stylish David Liebman and Gato Barbieri (who must have consulted with each other about their clothing before the photos were taken!), Richard Tee looking like Little Richard caught in mid-shout, a supremely relaxed-looking Keith Jarrett, ecstatic George Duke, Joe Beck looking quintessentially 1970s-ish, Carla Bley caught in a downpour, and a host of leather-jacketed style mavens. One of my favorites is the photo of sweatshirted Jaco Pastorius — maybe because it's a poignant reminder of just how young he was when he died, while still being the oft-acknowledged touchstone for so many jazz and rock bass guitarists who followed him (Pastorius eschews the whole JRF tag, by the way, preferring instead to call his music "punk jazz — now there's a concept that young jazz musicians might want to pursue, if they think there's any need to inject some life into the music!).

comments powered by Disqus

View 1 archived comment(s)