Embracing New Orleans Jazz

I’ve always been a Birth of the Cool type of gal. When I listen to jazz, typically it’s the melodic sounds of Stan Getz or the reflective riffs of Miles Davis that get me “in a sentimental mood” –– the kind of jazz that conjures up thoughts of shows I’ve heard at the Village Vanguard or Yoshi’s in Oakland, where jazz musicians make magic in dim, smoke-filled spaces, where the audience reflects on each note, where the melodies trap each listener in his or her own thoughts, allowing for almost complete self-absorption.

Given my affinity for cool jazz, you can probably imagine why I wasn’t particularly fond of Dixieland and why I despised ragtime just the same. I wrongly associated these jazz styles — New Orleans styles — with images of minstrel shows, suspenders, banjos, something much too close to a kind of polka. I thought this type of music was simply geared to the New Orleans tourism industry. I imagined overly commodified sounds and exploited musicians for whom this music was their only stronghold against oppression.

But I misjudged Dixieland and brass bands. And I didn’t fully realize this until just last week.

Well, actually, I started having second thoughts about New Orleans jazz throughout my first year here, as I began to experience the festivals, the brass bands and Indians at Mardi Gras, an occasional show at Snug Harbor.

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The final transformation happened last week, when I attended the inaugural event at Loyola University’s new Center for the Study of New Orleans, An Evening of Jazz and History. Local jazz writer Jason Berry spoke, and a band, led by clarinetist Dr. Michael White and singer Jason Boutte, performed New Orleans classics such as “St. James Infirmary,” “Iko Iko” and “Tipitina.”

The band brought these legendary songs to life. And they brought the crowd to life, as well. What started as a seemingly refined performance — the musicians were dressed to the nines, on a stage more reminiscent of the Lincoln Center than Vaughan’s Lounge — turned into a soul-stirring, interactive experience.

I’d expected to sit back and absorb the music and allow it simply to remove me from harried thoughts of a long work week. Instead, I could barely sit still, and several times during the performance I wanted to rush the stage and dance.

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It was much like my experience at Jazz Fest and, especially, at Mardi Gras. Every time a brass band passed by, moving down the parade route, I felt the urge to dance with everyone around me. I wanted to dip to the ground, singing Rebirth’s “Take it to the Street.” I never thought of myself as someone who would dance with strangers and get drunk off syncopated beats. But I couldn’t help it. I’d get too engrossed in the music, entranced by the colorful characters all around me. It’s as if I became a part of the music. And I suspect the collective energy in the air fueled the performers, encouraging them to put on an even better show.

I guess what I’ve learned about Dixieland jazz is that it seems to be a defining part of the festival culture here in New Orleans, a culture that feeds off of collective participation and spontaneous bursts of emotion.

I was unable to appreciate New Orleans jazz until I experienced it firsthand. I wonder if my newfound appreciation unfolds the same way for other newcomers.

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I have to admit that there’s a part of me that will always love the bossa nova rhapsodies of Getz, the bebop of Charlie Parker and the jazz fusion of Chick Corea. But the one subgenre of jazz I disliked most — namely, Dixieland, or traditional — is now the one that predominates my thoughts and my spirit. It’s unique, diverse and malleable — a musical melting pot, much like the city. So if you love the Big Easy, there’s a pretty good chance you’ll love the jazz, too.
 
That said, if you ever need to find me, look around at any of the weekly festivals. I’ll probably ride by on my bike, humming “Who Dat Called the Police,” beignet in hand, with Mardi Gras beads hanging from my basket.
 

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