Of course I detest labelsa slippery slope toward stereotypesbut I need to start by defining two subspecies of the jazz genus. Those who would throw "Brown-Eyed Girl" into the middle of an acoustic jazz set, with no guilt toward their jazz forbearers, will be known as "Gig Whores" (per the seminal essay, Careers in Jazz). And those righteous individuals like yourself, who prefer to take the high road, we'll call "Jazz Warriors." With that in mind:
- In a Death With Dignity state, only Jazz Warriors will take their lives; it will be business as usual for the Gig Whores.
- As the ranks of Jazz Warriors are thinned, the state's fragile jazz ecosystem will be destroyed. (A balanced population, it turns out, is essential to keeping the system in check). Suddenly, Gig Whores will flood the state, drawn by the clarion call of "Moondance/Mustang Sally/Soul Man" medleys resounding throughout the land. As the Gig Whores' numbers swell and they compete ruthlessly among themselves for gigs, musical standards will further plummet.
- With the state's jazz scene quickly becoming a musical cesspool, Jazz Warriors who haven't already killed themselves will either do so or flee to other states that have yet to pass the legislation. You may, at this point, find yourself hurrying back to Georgia.
- The country's jazz community will thereby be split into highly partisan states with little common ground or room for diplomacy, much like our ever-sharpening red/blue political divide.
- The greatest irony: Death With Dignity states today include all the jazz hotbedsNew York, California and Illinois, for starters. Jazz Warriors will have to relocate the art form to "safe states" where Assisted Suicide has been declared illegal, like... Alabama, Idaho and South Carolina. Can the seeds of jazz music's future be germinated and cultivated in such barren terrain? And can the poor Jazz Warrior, already carrying an unimaginable historical burden, endure in such an utterly alien environment? Picture a progressive, creative thinker, pulled from his beatnik bookstore audiences, secular spiritual centers, and natural food stores, now thrust into a hotbed of firearms, bible thumping and country music; the Real America. He is the sole hope for jazz music's survival, but his own survival is far from assured.
Have a question for Mr. P.C.? Ask him.