THE people who pioneered the “ring shout” music since the days of slavery, preserved with their creation they called “syncretism”, the blending of cultural elements.This blending of cultural elements was the womb that nurtured jazz music. People like Buddy Bolden (1868-1931), who played the cornet and was affectionately known as “The Elusive Father of Jazz”, continued the pioneering until he passed the baton to Sidney Bechet (1897-1959), who was the first Jazz man to be recognized for introducing the soprano saxophone into Jazz music.
Bechet was also a composer, and played the alto saxophone and the cornet. His recordings are numerous. His greatest delight, he said, was getting an opportunity to play with his friend and idol, the Duke of Ellington.
Following right on their heels was Jelly Roll Morton, a Creole. He was being described at the time as New Orleans’ greatest Jazz composer. The depth of work that he produced with his group, the ‘Red Hot Peppers’, were described as classic. He was pushing the music to definitely new heights. However, Morton’s contribution was never given the accolades he though they deserved.
Commentators complained that Morton’s behaviour left much to be desired; he was often criticised for his fancy gems, his flashy wardrobe, and flashy dressing, emphasising how he is a braggadocio loud mouth, plus his underworld connections.
All of this, of course, has nothing to do with his music and his ability to play the music. His contribution to the music cannot be dismissed just because of those shortcomings. His body of compositions, recordings, piano rolls, and his lucid commentary on Jazz is special to listen to.
In the 1920s, Morton was recording extensively with his band. Taking advantage of the Louisiana decree of 1894 (that anyone with African ancestry was a Negro), Morton legitimately accepted Black musicians as his peers. He also recorded with the likes of cornetist, King Oliver; trumpeter Louis Armstrong, Clarinetist Johnny Dobbs and Drummer Baby Dobbs. Unfortunately with the advent of the great depression in America, Morton’s career halted.
In 1938, he wrote a letter to Down Beat Magazine (the gospel of jazz music). Some people called it a long-winded epistle. “My contributions were many: The first glee-club in orchestra; the first washboard was recorded by me; bass fiddle, drums. I produced the fly swatter (they now call them brushes).”
When all was written, Morton earned his place as the most consummate craftsman of the traditional New Orleans style. During this period, African-Americans were vacating the South in droves. Over half-a-million people left the South for more tolerant communities. This exodus, which was called ‘The great migration’, encompassed the entire range of the Black society.
After the closure of “Storyville”, the red-light district in New Orleans, musicians, especially Black ones, were on the move. White musicians were on the move also. Their move was not because of racial anxieties; they were moving to Chicago to tap into that new market. The Original Dixie Land jazz band found it easier to interest recording companies in their music. However, the popularity of the initial recordings revealed the potential of the African-American musician.
After then, it was difficult for White bands to get engagements, or even to record. Group organiser of the New Orleans Rhythm Kings, Paul Mares, recalls,
“We did our best to copy the colored music we heard at home in New Orleans; we did the best we could, but, naturally, we couldn’t play real colored style.”
Just as Morton’s career was on the decline, Joseph King Oliver began to rise. As his rise continued, the questions began: Was he the best cornet player in New Orleans? He was given the sobriquet of “King” after he had won an open contest against other cornet players the likes of Freddie Keppard and Manuel Perez. Oliver claimed that early into his career, he was influenced by Buddy Bolden.
He also left for Chicago when “Storyville” closed. Replacing him in Edward “Kid” Ory’s band was the hottest young cornet player in town by the name of Louis Armstrong.
In the jazz idiom, King Oliver stands out as New Orleans’ cornetist par excellence who left behind an impressive body of recordings. The Creole Jazz Band created by Oliver in Chicago was swinging; his was the hottest band in town.
After getting the gig at the famous Lincoln Gardens in 1922, Oliver sent a telegram to 22-year-old Armstrong, requesting his immediate presence in Chicago. The duets of Oliver and Armstrong were legendary; they put Chicago on the jazz map of the United States and the world.
In 1923, the Creole Jazz band made the first series of recordings by a Black jazz group.
Until next week.

By Milton Bruce