As I have mentioned in an earlier post, jazz historians have labeled Sample’s “kind” of jazz as “pop jazz,” “adult contemporary,” and, of course, “crossover” jazz. This is not new information here. “Crossover” is a convenient label in jazz that covers a lot of territory, especially when the music does not easily compartmentalize. More often than not, especially in the “modern” era of jazz, it is a matter of marketing the music to as many record buyers as possible. The word “marketing,” unfortunately, carries with it the onus of “sell-out” to many jazz critics; however, for the jazz innovator, it is only part of the exploration and evolution of their style. It’s about the music—only the music. It is common knowledge that Miles was vilified for transitioning to electric instrumentation in the late sixties. Stanley Crouch’s infamous and scathing attack on Miles in his Feb. 12, 1990 New Republic essay “Play the Right Thing: Miles Davis, the Most Brilliant Sellout in the History of Jazz” held back little in his attack:
The contemporary Miles Davis, when one hears his music or watches him perform, deserves the description that Nietzsche gave of Wagner: ‘the greatest example of self-violation in the history of art.’
The “self-violation” Crouch is referring to is Miles’ transition to electric music, an act of treachery not soon to be forgiven by “jazz purists.” This is nonsense, of course, and the idea of staying true to your art is more a matter of artistic stagnation than it is loyalty to what tradition, or someone’s sense of it, has proven to be acceptable. Miles will have none of it. “I ain’t never been no grinner,” he writes in his 1990 autobiography Miles: The Autobiography.
Who most critics like a lot of times depends on whether the person is nice to them … so a lot of the guys … grinned up on stage and entertained, rather than just played their instruments — which is what they were there for. (from Patrick McDonald 1990)
Just as the critics may have lamented Miles Davis’ abandonment of that which made him the “master of musical articulation,” so also they may have lamented Joe Sample’s transition (I won’t say abandonment) from funk and fusion to “crossover” jazz. But the changes in musical style, in this case, does not in any way define Sample as a jazz musician; to define him in any measurable way would take close examination of the entire body of his work. To define Miles Davis the jazz musician solely based on his pre-1968 body of work is nonsense. “Greatness,” if it’s possible to define it at all, is a measure of the artist’s ability to grow, to change, to evolve from one era to the next, reflecting both the artistic and commercial needs of the audience. But it’s still all about the music. Sure, Miles had a reputation for turning his back on the audience during a concert, but that’s what’s cool about Miles. We don’t take it personally. It’s not a rejection of his audience; it’s an affirmation of the music that he creates.
So while there may be an enormous stylistic gap between Sample’s work with the Crusaders (and the Jazz Crusaders) and his solo work on his album Carmel, that gap is a clear measure of the enormously creative musician and composer that he is, capable of working in a variety of popular styles, moving from playing hard bop in the late 50’s to fusion and electric keyboards in the 70’s, to, ultimately, introspective, pop-oriented jazz. His most recent record, released a year ago, August of 2013, was a New Orleans flavored album, Creole Joe Band. Sample returns to his Southeast Texas Creole roots with group of musicians playing the music of Cajun folk music, Zydeco, and soulful New Orleans’ style blues.
Call and Response 