Coming
into this class, I had only a vague idea about the history of jazz. I
subscribed to the simplistic view mirrored in the early jazz
documentary New Orleans that great musicians like Louis
Armstrong and Billie Holiday single-handedly created jazz in New
Orleans and brought it to Chicago and New York, where it
automatically became America's music and came to define the 1920s
(King Oliver, 37). From the start, this class challenged my original
assumptions about jazz and gave me a new concept, dialogue, with
which to interpret art.
One
main assumption I held before taking this class was that jazz was
immediately heralded as America's newest and greatest art form from
its conception. I have since learned that it originated in the
seedier districts of New Orleans at the turn of the 20th
century (Gioia, 34) and spread to Chicago and New York around the
late 1910s and 1920s and remained a music played mainly for poorer
black audiences. With the rise of radio, a few artists like Benny
Goodman and Duke Ellington became part of a “nationwide mass
medium” (Gioia, 136) that created the flashy image of jazz as
America's music that most people hold today. And jazz did not stop
developing there; as I learned later, musicians like Charlie Parker
and Miles Davis continued to push jazz in new directions with styles
like bebop and cool jazz (Gioia, 201). Through this class, I have
gained a much fuller understanding of the evolution and history of
jazz.
Mikhail
Bakhtin's concept of dialogue as a catalyst for art is one of the
biggest ideas that I have taken away from this class. As an example,
jazz was a product of New Orleans' “commingling of Spanish, French
and African influences” (Gioia, 6) with a splash of American
individualism. It was not the product of a few gifted individuals,
but rather was created in the context of the city's community.
Players of early jazz in New Orleans and New York in the bordellos
and rent parties were especially sensitive to the tastes of their
listeners because if they failed to engage their audience, they would
be tossed out on the street. As the communities who listened to jazz
changed from poor Southern blacks to middle-class whites and finally
to more artistically-bent Bohemian types, the sound of the music
changed as well. Songs like “Carolina Shout” were “solid and
groovy” (James P. Johnson, 29) enough to get the country people
bouncing on the dance floor while Duke Ellington's pieces were more
focused on creating moods and intricate melodic and harmonic
structures (Gioia, 121). Bebop rebelled against both of these
audiences in favor of a brasher, dissonant, hipper sound that caught
the ears of coffeehouse patrons and starving artists. Each of these
music styles were created by the dialogue between artist and
community – jazz musicians would innovate and improvise and stuck
with whatever meshed most with their peers and audience.
Beyond
the bounds of this class, the dialogic theory can put any art into
historical perspective. The simple religious imagery of many Medieval
paintings reflected the desires of the main patrons of such art,
churches and nobles. Then, when merchants in Italy began to get
richer off of new trade routes, tastes changed and more sophisticated
and less overtly religious art flourished. Michelangelo's
masterpieces were both a product of his genius and the desires of his
patrons, the Medicis. A more modern example is a show like How I
Met Your Mother, which flourishes because it is easily relatable
to the average American. Most people know a playboy Barney Stinson,
or a hopelessly lovestruck Ted Mosby. Through the lens of dialogue,
any form of art can be seen as a constant discussion between artist
and consumer in order to create the ideal final product.