by Richard A.
Peterson
Audiences and all that jazz
Nat Hentoff, prominent jazz critic, asserts that
"Jazz is one of the few vocations that allows a man
to be himself, to say in his work who he is and what
he feels." Jazz shares this characteristic with the
other creative arts. However, the picture is not so
idyllic for artists; the old adage still holds true:
"He who pays the piper calls the tune." In order
to make a living the musician is often asked to play
what he considers the antithesis of jazz-eommer-
cial, popular, corny, sweet, square's music.
The relationship between an occupation and its
clientele is a central concern of the sociology of
occupations. The position of artists, such as jazz
musicians, is particularly interesting because the
artist's claim to competence is not buttressed by the
trappings of a professional organization or the titles
of an established bureaucracy or the elaborate rules
of the craftsman's guild. The musician himself must
defend his conception of jazz as an art form against
the commercialization of recording companies and
the "vulgar" taste of the audience. The pressures
for compromise are heavy. For example, Jimmy
McPartland recalls an incident with a recording
company executive in which Benny Goodman,
Glenn Miller, and Tommy Dorsey were also in-
volved:
After the (recording) session was just about over, we
started kidding around and playing corny. Out comes
the recording manager from his booth, and he says,
"That's it! That's what we want, just what you're
playing there." We were playing as corny as possible.
As a matter of fact, Tommy Dorsey had come up and
was standing listening to us, and he picked up a
trombone and started playing, kidding around, too.
The manager said, "You gotta do that." That is what
he wanted. So we sort of used the St. Louis chord
progressions and blew all this cod Dixie, and we
called the number Shirt Tail Stomp. It sold more than
any of the others; or I should say that it sold the
rest of the sides because it was corny. It shows the
taste of people; still the same, I guess, the world over.
A performer can pander to the tastes of his audio
ence or he can ignore them. He can try to educate
the audience to raise its standards, or he can reject
audience standards altogether. Jazz musicians have
tried out all these possibilities at one time or an-
other, as they search for an attitude that can pre·
serve their self-image as creative artists without
putting them permanently on the unemployed list.
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However, as we shall see, none of these strategies
provide a final resolution of the audience "prob-
lem."
A complete acceptance of audience standards can
produce a Lawrence Welk, whose musical philoso-
phy is "to play music not so much what we enjoy
as what people in general enjoy." Welk, of course,
does not really have the jazzman's problem. He sees
himself as an entertainer rather than as an artist,
and is content to have it so. Jazz musicians feel
that complete surrender to audience taste will de-
stroy their creative abilities and recount with horror
stories about those of their fellows who have "gone
commercial." Jazz artists are fated to some form of
battle with the audience.
'IJhe Fourth Wall"
In nightclubs and dance halls where jazz is most
often played, the artist's contact with the public is
quite intimate. Here jazz musicians feel they must
defend themselves and their music from the audio
ences' corrupting taste. They try to ignore the audio
ence by constructing what Kenny Dorham, a trum-
pet player, calls "... 'the fourth wall.' ... you're
aware of the audience and yet you have to preserve
a sense of detachment so you can create a piece of
music or a role internally." They develop a system
of communication through the music which is shar-
ed among the musicians "... like an inside joke."
They "put down" the audience in innumerable
ways, in the music, through jokes and antics, and
through not honoring "requests" from the audio
ence.
The audience cannot be ignored entirely, of
course. Musicians are performers, and performers
are not paid to entertain each other. The players
employ other tactics to cope with the audience.
Educating the Audience
One possibility is to educate the audience to want
to hear good jazz and to respect the jazz artist.
This education can be open, working through the
schools as Stan Kenton and representatives of the
musicians' union have advocated. Alternatively, it
can be disguised education, jazz smuggled into
dance or commercial music. This is the strategy
most often advocated by practicing musicians and
also the one which is most readily available to them.
The late Jack Teagarden put it most simply.
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" . . . You just can't go out there and play every
number fast to show off your technique. You've got
to play some numbers for the dancers... play four
tunes for the public and one for yourself." Gene
Krupa shows this disguised education strategy to be
the conscious intent of the swing era Benny Good·
man band. "Benny built himself a band playing
musician's music, but didn't shoot over the heads of
the public. It took the people time, but once they
grasped the Goodman musical sermon, they easily
understood, accepted, and followed." The cornmer-
cialized jazz of Dave Brubeck and Stan Kenton has
been excused by some critics as whetting the ap-
petite or preparing the audience for true jazz.
The basic problem inherent in diluting creativity
to educate the audience is that jazz is ever chang.
ing. Today's excitingly creative jazz is tomorrow's
commercial pap. Thus, inevitably, the audience is
being educated to yesterday's jazz. The forty-year-
old lady who knows enough to yell for "Saints"
doesn't know that this tune and the style which it
represents had been thoroughly explored as an art
form before she left grammar school. The half-
educated audience asks the artist to produce again
and again the things that have made him famous.
This can have a devastating impact on the artist's
career. As Andre Hodeir, French jazz historian,
tells the story, ". . . the history of both jazz and
jazzmen is that of creative purity gradually corrupt.
ed by success. . . . First, the young musician ex-
presses himself freely, breaks the rules, disconcert-
ing and even shocking his listeners; then the public
adopts him, he attracts disciples and becomes a star.
He thinks he is free, but he has become a prisoner."
Nut Jazz
Rather than diluting the jazz elements, the music
may be made palatable to the audience by occa-
sional gimmicks. In the '20's this strategy was
given the name "nut" jazz. Here jazz virtuosity is
exaggerated out of all proportions and built into a
Richard A. Peterson is a fellow of the Russell Sage
Foundation Sociology and Law Program at the Univer-
sity of Wisconsin where he is making a study of the
Teamsters Union. His research is in the areas of
industrial sociology and the
sociology of occupations. His
published works inc l u d e
Notes on Technology and the
Moral Order with Alvin W.
Gouldner. The research reo
ported on here is part of a
larger investigation of musi-
cians being carried on with
David Berger of Columbia
University.
32
routine. While some jazz historians have claimed
that the gimmicks of Cab Calloway and the per·
sonality of Louis Armstrong sustained jazz through
the 30's, such exhibitionism is strongly resented by
race-conscious artists today. The clowning of "nut"
jazz has come to be associated with debasing Negro
stereotypes, and the aloof stage manner of the
"cool" jazz musician is a deliberate attempt to
repudiate this association. As the paragon of the
cool manner, Miles Davis says, "All I am is a
trumpet player. I only can do one thing-play my
horn-and that's what's at the bottom of the whole
mess. I ain't no entertainer, and I ain't trying to be
one. I am one thing, a musician."
The Jazz Community
Attempts to bring the art of jazz to the audience
-either by diluting it or putting it in an amusing
package--result in a stifling of creative artistry.
There is one alternative remaining, total rejection
of the audience and its standards. It's a very short
jump for most jazz musicians from the rejection of
lay evaluations of music to the development of a
special jazz community which rejects the standards
of society in the rest of life as well. The jazz musi-
cian begins to see all the world outside the jazz
community as essentially hostile. The jazz commu-
nity cuts itself adrift from the rest of society. In
this isolated community the cult of creative genius
and the fierce competitiveness of jazz artistry have
led to the use of all sorts of artificial means (al-
cohol, drugs, magical devices, and the like) to
heighten sensitivity to the art and to dull the con-
sciousness of an alien audience. Thus, jazz com-
munity demands may bring the musician to destroy
himself. Fabled cases of self-destruction for the
sake of art are those of Bix Biederbecke and Charlie
Parker.
The final irony in attempting to get free of audio
ence demands through Bohemianism is that the
audience comes to expect and demand outre be-
havior. The would-be audience-alienator is asked to
go on with his "show." What is intended as a
rejection is converted into a new brand of enter-
tainment, a new style, reminiscent of nut jazz. A
recnt note in Down Beat magazine concerning one
of the most innovative modern jazz artists illustrates
this point well:
Charles Mingus, often discussed as a petulant stormy
petrel, is often more victim of the news-conscious than
he is really two-gun notorious. Witness his last en-
gagement at New York's Village Gate. Co-owner Joe
Tremini called Mingus' manager to demand some
action. "What's going on?" asked the manager. "Min-
gus has been here for a week now; no trouble; no
telling the customers off. Talk to Mingus, will you?
It is bad for business." -
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