I got about halfway through this documentary series until I gave up and decided to switch to the audiobook. I have a great deal of respect for Ken Burns, and of course his documentary on “America’s Music” is full of arresting photographs, beautiful music, and wonderful history. However, in this case I came to feel that he ultimately missed the mark.
Though perhaps on life support, jazz is a living music; and at the time that the documentary was made (2001) many jazz pioneers were still alive to tell their stories. (Many are still kicking even now!) However, the bulk of the interviews were devoted to writers, music critics, and especially to Wynton Marsalis. Marsalis is obviously a brilliant musician, and is highly knowledgeable to boot. But he has his own, traditionalist, arguably conservative views of what constitutes “real” jazz, and in any case he is a relative latecomer. Thus, the final impression is of a dead tradition, whose innovators are all long gone, and which must now be dutifully preserved.
It may, indeed, be true that jazz has largely been transformed into something akin to classical music—something taught in conservatories, with its own strictures of taste, its own canon of greats—an art form kept alive through institutional funding and professional training, rather than popular interest. However, this state of affairs is, in my opinion, totally foreign to the spirit of jazz, a music which has innovation at its core. After this, it was a great relief, for example, to watch Alan Lomax’s documentary on New Orleans jazz parades, which relates much of the relevant history while including footage of the tradition as it survived then (in the 1990s), as well as interviews with ordinary practitioners.
However, I am being too harsh on Burns and his crew, for as soon as I switched to the audiobook, I was entranced. Somehow, all of the things that bothered me about the documentary were irrelevant in the context of a book (since, naturally, you couldn’t easily incorporate interviews of musicians or contemporary footage). Added to that, the audiobook is skillfully narrated by LeVar Burton, and includes pleasant musical examples throughout.
As is usual with any Ken Burns project, the “history” mainly consists of biographies woven together. You will not, for example, learn a great deal about the music itself or, say, the life of an ordinary jazz musician. But there are innumerable anecdotes about the jazz greats—most notably, Louis Armstrong and Duke Ellington—and by the end, you are left with a decent general idea of the history of the music (or, at least, the first fifty years of it).
I cannot end the review without praising Geoffrey Ward’s economical and stylish writing. He manages to pack the information from nearly 19 hours of film into 9 hours of an audiobook. And despite any shortcomings in the execution, I think this is a worthy project. Jazz, I firmly believe, is one of America’s great cultural achievements, and deserves to be widely celebrated.