Joshua Redman Quartet

In the liner notes to his 1996 album Freedom in the Groove, Joshua Redman wrote: Art, in the world of honest emotional experience, is never about absolutes, or favorites, or hierarchies, or “number ones.” The “desert island” scenario is wholly irrelevant to real-life tastes, choices, and attitudes. These days, I listen to, love, and am inspired by all forms of music. And once again, I sense the connections. I feel in much of ’90s hip-hop a bounce, a vitality, and a rhythmic infectiousness which I have always felt in the bebop of the ’40s and ’50s. I hear in some of today’s ‘alternative music’ a rawness, an edge, and a haunting insistence which echoes the intense modalism and stinging iconoclasm of the ’60s avant-garde.
These words had, and continue to have, a profound effect on the way I listen to music. It’s likely that we jazz fans have gone through a phase or two of “jazz snobbery” in our music-listening careers, and not always for bad reasons. Jazz musicians put lots of time, effort, energy and artistry into their music, and for what? The measly three percent of the music buying public that actually pays to listen to their stuff? Probably not. They do it because they love it and would play jazz even if nobody listened (which really isn’t that difficult to imagine, come to think of it). But for the three percent of us who actually do care about the music, it’s easy to deify these musicians. We make them into martyrs—often at their expense—because they are “spreading the jazz gospel”, i.e. doing something that we feel the public could use but just doesn’t have the time, sense or, alas, sophistication to appreciate. We convince ourselves that, as saxophonist Donald Harrison once said, “Jazz can save the world.”
Now, it’s one thing for a saxophonist like Donald Harrison—who, by the way, has admittedly been influenced by all kinds of music, from soca to calypso to hip-hop—to say “Jazz can save the world.” He probably believes that it can. But he’s a bona fide musician, and, as I just pointed out, he acknowledges that, while he does play jazz, his conception of jazz has been informed by many different kinds of music. What we jazz fans sometimes do, I fear, is play into the idea of jazz as some kind of sublime, timeless entity that resists “contamination” via contact with other (read: lesser) forms of music. This line of thinking is merely a riff on the old prelapsarian myth of “purity” before the Fall, and we’d do good to debunk it. There are no lofty or “pure” origins to which jazz might return. We treat the music as if it existed within a vacuum, untouched by the complex social, cultural and political forces that have surrounded it at all times, from its inception to the present. There is no such vacuum. Jazz exists within in the world just like any other form of music, even if it has a unique position within that world (it’s the only form of music, to my knowledge, that has had such a profound and wide-ranging influence on musicians of all stripes). It’s up to us, then, as responsible jazz fans, to, like Redman says, “sense the connections” between different forms of music and try and gain inspiration from it all.

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