Jazz and Comedy: A Half-Assed Analysis
January 21st, 2005I would like to apologize for the previous post. Not because I’m ashamed of it, mind you — I apologize because there will probably be more posts like it in the future. They’re too much fun to write. Now, to the actual post.
I went to see Wynton Marsalis and the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra with Josh last night. Great show. I enjoyed every minute — and that’s saying something for a person who normally doesn’t like jazz that much. But it forced two lines of thought through my head:
1) Jazz, to me, is not a genre for the people, as is often said. It’s a genre of the people. What I mean is that people listen to jazz for virtuosity more than a sonic orgasm. It’s a style of music that allows the audience to be constantly impressed by every musician, even though they don’t ascribe to normal musical tastes (songs should be catchy, memorable, blow-your-ass-off powerful, etc.). Because the music is composed out of ingenuity and emotion more than populist sentiments, jazz fans probably want to be impressed by the music’s technical aspects more than fans of any other type of music. Does this make sense?
2) Even though it wasn’t emphasized in this particular concert, I got to thinking about improvisation. The good jazz improvisators are indeed the ones with the best technical ability. Take Wynton Marsalis, for example. He can play thirty-second notes (that is, half as long as a sixteenth note; not thirty seconds long) with complete control, with notes bouncing from octave to octave, and still make it make musical sense. He can make the trumpet wail and scream with perfect clarity at registers and tones you didn’t know existed. But when he improvises, is it really improv? When you’ve been playing for so long, when you have total mastery of your instrument, is it possible to actually play something new? After all these years, can Wynton Marsalis still amaze himself in a jam session?
I ask this because even the “best” improv comedians recycle bits. They fall back on jokes they know people like — they apply them to whatever stupid situation that was yelled drunkenly from the crowd. The improv comic knows that nobody really notices or cares that his fart joke was in his back pocket all night. Maybe it’s my hatred for improv comedy that’s bleeding through here, but I think that once a “bad” improv comic becomes a “good” improv comic, he knows what jokes work and naturally milks them every time.
Going off that thought, it occurred to me that I have very little appreciation for anything that was created on the spot. Improv comedy, extemporaneous poetry, even musical jam sessions. They all feel like they’re lacking something because they are lacking something: thought. The best songs, poems, and books were mixed, edited, and re-edited over and over again. This should be obvious to about all of you.
You could probably use this law to judge the quality of the posts on this very site: the more time I spend thinking about the post, the better it tends to be. At least, in my opinion that seems to be the case. In fact, I have the sudden urge to try to prove myself wrong. Next post, I’ll make an improvisational, stream-of-consciousness, avant garde, ridiculous melange of shit. You’ll see how terrible it turns out.
-Darrell
January 22nd, 2005 at 5:42 pm
I agree, Darrell, however the improv is what gives room for all of the continued editing and future thoughts. It gives us something to think on and grow and improve upon. I never sit down and just write a paper. I first write down the immediate thoughts, then go back and revise. A musician can convey his/her immediate “thoughts” through music. Sometimes they don’t come out as well as the musician would like, but at other times, it is the exact message he wanted to convey and does not need revision. Improv is great, just as long as it’s reserved for the proper situations.