Search Results

The Detroit rock band MC5 are known for their affiliation with the White Panther Party, a radical group founded in Ann Arbor in 1968 by poet, jazz critic, and arts promoter John Sinclair. This chapter argues that the MC5 did not simply engage in cultural appropriation of Black music but rather sought to transform it into a new idiom relevant to white musicians and radicals like themselves. Rather than attempt literal imitations of blues or avant-garde jazz, the MC5 self-consciously adapted the form and style of their African American influences into a new context. This approach also informed their political stance, which was itself an adaptation, sometimes reverential and sometimes whimsical, of the ideas of Black Power figures such as Amiri Baraka and Eldridge Cleaver. The MC5 believed that their commitment to African American music inspired and justified their political activism, but this belief was always threatened by their tenuous position as white performers of that music.

The avant-garde (or “free jazz”) musicians who came to the forefront of jazz during the late 1950s and early 1960s mounted a revolutionary movement that challenged all the conventions of the idiom, aligning their innovations with the progressive social and political changes of the era. This chapter looks at the leading exponents of the music, including Ornette Coleman, Cecil Taylor, and Albert Ayler. But just when jazz seemed ready to sever completely its relationship with a mainstream audience, a new movement known as fusion (or jazz-rock fusion) attempted to broaden the music’s appeal by drawing on the new sounds of electrified commercial styles. Miles Davis, previously seen as an advocate of bebop, cool jazz, and other jazz movements, emerged as the leader of this new approach, signaled by the release of his hit album Bitches Brew. In the 1970s, a different kind of fusion style emerged, associated with the ECM record label in Germany, which combined jazz with ingredients drawn from classical music, world music, and other sources. This chapter traces the history of these contrasting styles and their major exponents, including Keith Jarrett, Pat Metheny, Chick Corea, Herbie Hancock, and the band Weather Report

Recording jazz onto multitrack tape meant that, while music continued to be captured onto tape in studios, albums could be constructed in postproduction: analogous to the way movies were shot on soundstages and assembled in editing rooms. Some musicians—especially Miles Davis and his jazz fusion bands—directed improvisations in the recording studio and left the task of assembling albums to their producers. Audiences for such albums heard, not studio games of cut 'n' paste, but tracks that resembled the turn-on-a-dime musical performances they heard in concert—performances which imitated techniques devised in postproduction. Enabling the naiveté of this audience is an overarching truth: jazz production almost always uses available technologies to ensure that in-the-moment performances are recorded (and, later, reproduced) as perfectly as possible.

This concluding chapter assesses the ongoing resonance of the loft era by examining multiple musical legacies that emerged in the aftermath of the loft era. So much of the New York jazz avant garde continues to revolve around musician-organized practices, which often share many of the concerns noted throughout this book. These include: an ongoing concern with ideals of freedom, both as a musical value and a political program for self-determination; a community-oriented focus, aimed at bringing together artists and listeners; efforts to build and/or repurpose spaces for cultivating artistic practices; and relying on a combination of cooperative DIY practices and funding through grants and city arts programs. Through the efforts of artist-organizers, New York has continually managed to maintain an active and intergenerational community of improvisers, many of whom hold direct ties to the loft era.

This chapter outlines the history of the Miles Davis Quintet, one of the most important and influential performers of jazz music. It examines their compositions, recordings, and their working methods inside the studio. It describes how their conventional practices of extended improvisation and heightened group interaction were groundbreaking, contributing significantly to the jazz repertory. Their innovations also serve as a cornerstone of contemporary jazz composition. Great importance is put on the quintet's departure from chorus structure, and their experiment of “controlled freedom”, where they maximized their creativity, spontaneity, and interaction. The chapter also discusses the background careers of each of the members, highlighting in particular what they brought into the quintet.

This introductory chapter provides an overview of New York's so-called “loft jazz era,” one of the least-understood periods in jazz history. Spanning from the mid-1960s until about 1980, the jazz lofts were a dense network of musician-run performance venues established in and around the former industrial buildings of lower Manhattan. The majority of these spaces were also musicians' homes, a factor that allowed them to operate with minimal overhead costs. In various contexts, lofts acted as rehearsal halls, classrooms, art galleries, living quarters, and meeting spaces. Their most visible role, however, was as public performance venues, especially for younger members of the jazz avant garde. At a time when few commercial nightclubs were interested in experimental styles, the lofts became a bustling base of operations for a growing community of young improvisers.

This chapter discusses the music of the men surrounding pianist Lennie Tristano in the mid-1940s. Their music is usually regarded as crucial to the development of the jazz avant-garde because “Intuition” and “Digression”—recorded in 1949 by an ensemble that included saxophonists Lee Konitz and Warne Marsh and guitarist Billy Bauer—are reputed to be the first “free,” totally improvised jazz performances. The Tristano ensemble's free pieces sound very Tristano-like and would seem to have little or no organic connection with the music of Ornette Coleman, Albert Ayler, Cecil Taylor, and company. The deeper significance of the Tristano-ites lies in Tristano's transformation of jazz's historical self-consciousness into a rationale for making a new kind of music.