Post by Deleted on Dec 19, 2013 10:13:55 GMT -5
OAKLAND, Calif. — WHEN I lived in New York during the early 1960s, John F. Kennedy was a hero among the downtown art crowd — not because of any legislative or foreign policy achievement, but because he pardoned the jazz pianist Hampton Hawes.
Hawes was a bebop pianist with a right-hand technique so brilliant that he was admired by none other than Art Tatum, widely considered the greatest jazz pianist ever. Hawes had been sentenced to 10 years in a Fort Worth prison for buying drugs from an undercover agent.
“Just after my third Christmas I was watching John Kennedy accept the presidency on the Washington steps,” Hawes wrote later. “Something about him, the voice, the eyes, the way he stood bright and coatless and proud in that cold air ... I thought, that’s the right cat; looks like he got some soul and might listen.” He applied for a pardon, and received one from the president on Aug. 16, 1963.
Democrats have more of an affinity for jazz than Republicans. Even Jimmy Carter, not everybody’s idea of a hipster, invited Dizzy Gillespie to the White House. But among the Democrats, President Obama is the one who comes closest to the style of bebop called “the Cool.”
Cool jazz is exemplified by the saxophone of Lester Young and his protégé Stan Getz; the trumpet of Miles Davis (especially on his 1957 album “Birth of the Cool”); the vibraphone of Milt Jackson and the song stylings of Billie Holiday, Sarah Vaughan and June Christy.
Like the president, cool musicians carried themselves with a regal bearing. Some members of the generation before them had to engage in minstrel-like antics to make a living. Cool musicians demanded respect, and when attacked didn’t blow up, but, like the president, responded stoically. One of his favorite words is “persistence,” the attitude of his hero, the saxophonist Sonny Rollins, the greatest surviving bebopper.
For a while in the mid-20th century, the Cool was everywhere. As youngsters in the ’50s, my friends and I talked cool, walked cool and dressed cool. For us, if you weren’t cool, you were hot, square or corny. We thought that Louis Armstrong was too hot and corny, until we read about his dispute with President Dwight D. Eisenhower over school integration. Armstrong had guts.
Last month I got to see the president of the Cool at the San Francisco Jazz Center, a $64 million building that opened earlier this year. I am in my second term as its poet laureate, and one of my poems, “When I Die I Will Go to Jazz,” has been installed on one of the building’s walls (in an alley named after Hawes’s memoir, “Raise Up Off Me”), so I was invited to attend the event.
The pianist who anchored the evening, Herbie Hancock, is cool. He was accompanied by other cool musicians, like the saxophonist Joshua Redman and the bassist Esperanza Spalding, who was so engaged in her instrument that she seemed attached to it.
An added attraction were the SFJazz High School All-Stars, a group of white, black and Asian-American students. One of the graduates, the young flutist Elena Pinderhughes, performed with the trio and held her own.
Outside, though, it was hot. Demonstrators against everything from military drones to energy pipelines greeted the president’s entourage when it arrived.
After being introduced, the president just about bounced onto the stage. A few days earlier I had heard a commentator say he seemed in the dumps these days. That afternoon he was fresh, unruffled — in other words, cool. (Maybe it was because our state’s health-insurance exchange, Covered California, demonstrates how well the Affordable Care Act works when implemented correctly: My youngest daughter got a silver plan that drastically reduces her monthly premiums within an hour of applying.)
One hallmark of a cool musician, like Ms. Spalding earlier in the evening, is an intensity and focus that lurks underneath the detached exterior. The same with Mr. Obama that night.
He hit repeatedly on his version of the American dream, that if you work hard you can succeed, no matter who you are. His recent speeches have abandoned the “tough love” rhetoric that targeted blacks exclusively; he now includes millions of whites in talking about a “tangle of pathologies,” something the political scientist Andrew Hacker first noticed in his 1992 book “Two Nations.”
At one point, a member of the audience began heckling Mr. Obama, demanding that he be more aggressive on progressive legislative issues.
The president replied, without skipping a beat, “A lot of people have been saying this lately on every problem. Just sign an executive order and we can do everything.” The Constitution tells him to do otherwise.
Then the president of the Cool left to make a speech in Los Angeles.
In 2010 Mr. Obama awarded the National Medal of Arts and Humanities to Mr. Rollins, the saxophonist. Oftentimes, there is a gulf between the people receiving this medal and the person conferring it. What does a president know about theater, or architecture?
Not so that day. When awarding Mr. Rollins the medal, the president said that his music had “helped inspire me, or get me through a tough day, or take risks that I might not otherwise have taken.”
I can dig it — an expression that is now considered corny.
Ishmael Reed is the author, most recently, of the play “The Final Version,” which is being performed at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe in New York City.
www.nytimes.com/2013/12/19/opinion/the-president-of-the-cool.html?nl=todaysheadlines&emc=edit_th_20131219
Never knew he liked jazz. It is cool
Hawes was a bebop pianist with a right-hand technique so brilliant that he was admired by none other than Art Tatum, widely considered the greatest jazz pianist ever. Hawes had been sentenced to 10 years in a Fort Worth prison for buying drugs from an undercover agent.
“Just after my third Christmas I was watching John Kennedy accept the presidency on the Washington steps,” Hawes wrote later. “Something about him, the voice, the eyes, the way he stood bright and coatless and proud in that cold air ... I thought, that’s the right cat; looks like he got some soul and might listen.” He applied for a pardon, and received one from the president on Aug. 16, 1963.
Democrats have more of an affinity for jazz than Republicans. Even Jimmy Carter, not everybody’s idea of a hipster, invited Dizzy Gillespie to the White House. But among the Democrats, President Obama is the one who comes closest to the style of bebop called “the Cool.”
Cool jazz is exemplified by the saxophone of Lester Young and his protégé Stan Getz; the trumpet of Miles Davis (especially on his 1957 album “Birth of the Cool”); the vibraphone of Milt Jackson and the song stylings of Billie Holiday, Sarah Vaughan and June Christy.
Like the president, cool musicians carried themselves with a regal bearing. Some members of the generation before them had to engage in minstrel-like antics to make a living. Cool musicians demanded respect, and when attacked didn’t blow up, but, like the president, responded stoically. One of his favorite words is “persistence,” the attitude of his hero, the saxophonist Sonny Rollins, the greatest surviving bebopper.
For a while in the mid-20th century, the Cool was everywhere. As youngsters in the ’50s, my friends and I talked cool, walked cool and dressed cool. For us, if you weren’t cool, you were hot, square or corny. We thought that Louis Armstrong was too hot and corny, until we read about his dispute with President Dwight D. Eisenhower over school integration. Armstrong had guts.
Last month I got to see the president of the Cool at the San Francisco Jazz Center, a $64 million building that opened earlier this year. I am in my second term as its poet laureate, and one of my poems, “When I Die I Will Go to Jazz,” has been installed on one of the building’s walls (in an alley named after Hawes’s memoir, “Raise Up Off Me”), so I was invited to attend the event.
The pianist who anchored the evening, Herbie Hancock, is cool. He was accompanied by other cool musicians, like the saxophonist Joshua Redman and the bassist Esperanza Spalding, who was so engaged in her instrument that she seemed attached to it.
An added attraction were the SFJazz High School All-Stars, a group of white, black and Asian-American students. One of the graduates, the young flutist Elena Pinderhughes, performed with the trio and held her own.
Outside, though, it was hot. Demonstrators against everything from military drones to energy pipelines greeted the president’s entourage when it arrived.
After being introduced, the president just about bounced onto the stage. A few days earlier I had heard a commentator say he seemed in the dumps these days. That afternoon he was fresh, unruffled — in other words, cool. (Maybe it was because our state’s health-insurance exchange, Covered California, demonstrates how well the Affordable Care Act works when implemented correctly: My youngest daughter got a silver plan that drastically reduces her monthly premiums within an hour of applying.)
One hallmark of a cool musician, like Ms. Spalding earlier in the evening, is an intensity and focus that lurks underneath the detached exterior. The same with Mr. Obama that night.
He hit repeatedly on his version of the American dream, that if you work hard you can succeed, no matter who you are. His recent speeches have abandoned the “tough love” rhetoric that targeted blacks exclusively; he now includes millions of whites in talking about a “tangle of pathologies,” something the political scientist Andrew Hacker first noticed in his 1992 book “Two Nations.”
At one point, a member of the audience began heckling Mr. Obama, demanding that he be more aggressive on progressive legislative issues.
The president replied, without skipping a beat, “A lot of people have been saying this lately on every problem. Just sign an executive order and we can do everything.” The Constitution tells him to do otherwise.
Then the president of the Cool left to make a speech in Los Angeles.
In 2010 Mr. Obama awarded the National Medal of Arts and Humanities to Mr. Rollins, the saxophonist. Oftentimes, there is a gulf between the people receiving this medal and the person conferring it. What does a president know about theater, or architecture?
Not so that day. When awarding Mr. Rollins the medal, the president said that his music had “helped inspire me, or get me through a tough day, or take risks that I might not otherwise have taken.”
I can dig it — an expression that is now considered corny.
Ishmael Reed is the author, most recently, of the play “The Final Version,” which is being performed at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe in New York City.
www.nytimes.com/2013/12/19/opinion/the-president-of-the-cool.html?nl=todaysheadlines&emc=edit_th_20131219
Never knew he liked jazz. It is cool
