Joe Sample passed away last Friday, Sept. 19, in Houston, TX. He was 76. I am fond of Joe Sample, primarily, because of his work on the album Carmel. Sure it’s “crossover” jazz, or “pop” jazz, and I am not especially a fan of the style, though I do admire many of the artists who work within the style, such as Chuck Mangione, John Klemmer, Spyro Gyra, and a few others. Not Kenny G., however, and not because my mother loved his music, and I can understand why she did (his music was played at her wake). That “smooth” vein of jazz is more about connecting at an emotional level and much less about tapping into the rational side of the brain. When we listen to Kenny G., we don’t want or need to know why we are feeling emotional, we want to just enjoy, for the moment, listening to the music and feeling that way.
When there is nothing at stake with this kind of musical emotionalism (Klemmer has been described as a “romanticist”), it’s easy to walk away because most of us are not that deeply affected by the music. I suppose this is why Smooth Jazz is better suited as background music, even appropriate at a wake. (Caveat here: of course, I am not lumping all Smooth Jazz together under this loose description). And I mean emotional in the sense of sentimentality, not in the sense of, for example, “blues catharsis,” a hallmark of blues musicians. The sentimentality of smooth jazz seems to be an end in itself, whereas emotion for the blues singer is more a means of “crossing
over” to the other side of a painful and sad experience. (As I write this, I am reminded of the “river” blues song trope: “The river is deep and the river is wide/The gal I love is on the other side”; “I went to the river but couldn’t get across”; apart from over-analyzed Biblical interpretations, the hardships of a Mississippi River flood have historically been apocalyptic, and survival is often seen as coming from the hands of the divine).
The ultimate goal for the blues singer is not necessarily to make the audience or listener experience the pain of the performer (although culturally different audiences will have different expectations based on their), but instead for the performer to reenact the struggle through the creative act of singing for the vocalist or improvising for the instrumentalist; we are merely witness to the blues experience as a cathartic act which, when it is authentic, can be life changing. The outcome of such a performance is not always clear for the blues singer; art of any kind requires some kind of response or reaction which is often not very positive. Often both listener and performer are left relieved but also they are often left confused and dissatisfied by the experience. The effect of listening to Billie Holiday sing “Strange Fruit” is complicated for a couple of reasons: the subject matter of course is horrific, but the lyrics and music are artistically beautiful, and we are left wondering how it is possible that something on the surface that is so horrific can at the same time be so sublimely beautiful. The answer, of course, is the “voice” that speaks of that horror; Billie Holiday touches us at a level that we find irresistible, haunting, and exceedingly beautiful. And it takes time, perhaps a very long time, to grasp the effects of such a song, effects that are not “smooth” by a long shot.
Billie Holiday performing at the Cafe Society in 1939….one of the murals commissioned by Barney Josephson can be seen in the background
For example, Holiday first performed “Strange Fruit” at the Cafe Society in New York City in 1939. The club was New York’s only truly integrated nightclub, “a place catering to progressive types with open minds.” Even so, Holiday shared some misgivings about performing a song that confronted the issues of racial hatred head-on. When she finished performing the song, “there wasn’t even a patter of applause”(qt. in Margolick). The silence must have been horrifying. Then one person started clapping and that led to another, and then the entire audience erupted in applause. Hence, the catharsis of the blues.
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Call and Response 
Joe Sample, Smooth Jazz, and Blues Catharsis
Posted in Art, Jazz, Jazz Playlists, Memoir, Social Commentary, tagged Billie Holiday, blues catharsis, Carmel, Chuck Mangione, crossover jazz, Jazz Crusaders, Joe Sample, John Klemmer, Kenny G, Monterey, pop jazz, smooth jazz, Spyro Gyra on September 17, 2014| Leave a Comment »
Joe Sample passed away last Friday, Sept. 19, in Houston, TX. He was 76. I am fond of Joe Sample, primarily, because of his work on the album Carmel. Sure it’s “crossover” jazz, or “pop” jazz, and I am not especially a fan of the style, though I do admire many of the artists who work within the style, such as Chuck Mangione, John Klemmer, Spyro Gyra, and a few others. Not Kenny G., however, and not because my mother loved his music, and I can understand why she did (his music was played at her wake). That “smooth” vein of jazz is more about connecting at an emotional level and much less about tapping into the rational side of the brain. When we listen to Kenny G., we don’t want or need to know why we are feeling emotional, we want to just enjoy, for the moment, listening to the music and feeling that way.
When there is nothing at stake with this kind of musical emotionalism (Klemmer has been described as a “romanticist”), it’s easy to walk away because most of us are not that deeply affected by the music. I suppose this is why Smooth Jazz is better suited as background music, even appropriate at a wake. (Caveat here: of course, I am not lumping all Smooth Jazz together under this loose description). And I mean emotional in the sense of sentimentality, not in the sense of, for example, “blues catharsis,” a hallmark of blues musicians. The sentimentality of smooth jazz seems to be an end in itself, whereas emotion for the blues singer is more a means of “crossing
over” to the other side of a painful and sad experience. (As I write this, I am reminded of the “river” blues song trope: “The river is deep and the river is wide/The gal I love is on the other side”; “I went to the river but couldn’t get across”; apart from over-analyzed Biblical interpretations, the hardships of a Mississippi River flood have historically been apocalyptic, and survival is often seen as coming from the hands of the divine).
The ultimate goal for the blues singer is not necessarily to make the audience or listener experience the pain of the performer (although culturally different audiences will have different expectations based on their), but instead for the performer to reenact the struggle through the creative act of singing for the vocalist or improvising for the instrumentalist; we are merely witness to the blues experience as a cathartic act which, when it is authentic, can be life changing. The outcome of such a performance is not always clear for the blues singer; art of any kind requires some kind of response or reaction which is often not very positive. Often both listener and performer are left relieved but also they are often left confused and dissatisfied by the experience. The effect of listening to Billie Holiday sing “Strange Fruit” is complicated for a couple of reasons: the subject matter of course is horrific, but the lyrics and music are artistically beautiful, and we are left wondering how it is possible that something on the surface that is so horrific can at the same time be so sublimely beautiful. The answer, of course, is the “voice” that speaks of that horror; Billie Holiday touches us at a level that we find irresistible, haunting, and exceedingly beautiful. And it takes time, perhaps a very long time, to grasp the effects of such a song, effects that are not “smooth” by a long shot.
Billie Holiday performing at the Cafe Society in 1939….one of the murals commissioned by Barney Josephson can be seen in the background
For example, Holiday first performed “Strange Fruit” at the Cafe Society in New York City in 1939. The club was New York’s only truly integrated nightclub, “a place catering to progressive types with open minds.” Even so, Holiday shared some misgivings about performing a song that confronted the issues of racial hatred head-on. When she finished performing the song, “there wasn’t even a patter of applause”(qt. in Margolick). The silence must have been horrifying. Then one person started clapping and that led to another, and then the entire audience erupted in applause. Hence, the catharsis of the blues.
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