Ken Burns’ widely touted film documentaries have become extremely popular over the past twenty or so years, and this effort, from 2001, employs his usual strategies, including countless photos and interviews with key experts. However, as with all his other efforts (at least the ones I’ve seen), the research is somewhat shabby and superficial; in addition to numerous factual errors, there are far too many other problems for this documentary to be taken seriously. These include inexcusable omissions, far too much emphasis placed on key figures (many of whom are quite over-rated) and some rather bizarre emphases on minor, even irrelevant figures, at the expense of those who made much more significant contributions to the music.
An example of misspent focus is seen in the long discussion of Jim Europe, a pre-jazz concert band leader who made numerous extremely disappointing recordings before his 1919 murder by a band member. There is little if any jazz in these recordings; the rhythms are mechanical, and the overall approach not at all dissimilar to recordings of other black bandleaders of the time, including W.C. Handy, Ford Dabney, and Wilbur Sweatman. In fact, one could make a better case for each of these being a precursor to jazz rather than Europe. There are other problems as well; Europe’s band occasionally plays alarmingly out of tune and the overall approach to the material is quite conventional. The closest this group comes to any kind of jazz is a short trombone break by (probably) Herb Flemming, who later proved himself to be a jazz artist on numerous 1920s recordings, particularly with Sam Wooding’s orchestra (Wooding, like so many other influential artists, is never mentioned in this documentary). Jim Europe’s band sounds more like a well-meaning high school wind ensemble of a century ago than a group that was supposed to be, as this documentary would have us believe, a major jazz influence. Why Burns and his associates chose to put so much emphasis on Jim Europe defies rational explanation.
One could make the case that “Jazz” is a documentary about Louis Armstrong rather than about the totality of jazz history, given the emphasis that is placed upon him; he appears and re-appears throughout each series. And, each time his name is brought up, Armstrong is practically deified time and again. To be sure, Armstrong was a crucially important figure, but so much time is spent on him that other important contemporaries are either ignored altogether or else given short shrift. For example, Henry “Red” Allen, called by Don Ellis the most avant-garde of jazz trumpeters, was an extremely lyrical improvisor and innovator whose sense of rhythm often transcended bar lines. Unlike Armstrong, who peaked early and became more and more set in his ways, Allen remained a creative force all his life. Yet he is mentioned only in passing. Even so, he makes out better than other Armstrong contemporaries such as Punch Miller, Lee Collins, and Louis Prima. And that’s only in New Orleans!
The most glaring omission is seen in the segment on Count Basie. Basie is the central figure in the long discussion of Kansas City jazz. No issue there. Yet Bennie Moten, the man who had the greatest band in Kansas City at that time, the man who gave Basie his start and who set the standard for big band riffing, isn’t mentioned even once! Moten’s ensemble was the greatest of the mid-west big bands in the late 1920s and early 1930s. Moten himself was a composer/pianist whose stature is beyond dispute; his absence from this series is an unconscionable error. It is a complete mystery how he could be overlooked by any competent researcher.
Other key figures are also ignored or else mentioned only in passing: John Kirby’s sextet (called “The biggest little band in the land” during the big band era), Charlie Shavers, J.C. Higginbotham (poll winning jazz trombonist), Earl Hines (possibly, along with Art Tatum, jazz’s greatest pianist) and far too many others. All this is indicative of extremely shallow research and shows a lack of understanding of jazz history. Had Burns spent less time turning Armstrong into a god, he could have included some of these people and made a much better documentary.
One unintentionally funny episode is when saxophonist Branford Marsalis is interviewed. After praising John Coltrane to the sky, he seems to have no problem at all with Coltrane’s forays into honking and screaming, which was all the rage among so-called avant-garde saxophonists in the 1960s. Yet, when Cecil Taylor’s piano work is mentioned, Marsalis dismisses it as “self-indulgent bull&*%#.” Why the double standard?
“Jazz” merely re-enforces the cliches and false conclusions that most jazz critics unthinkingly repeat ad nauseum, particularly in their discussions of certain over-rated performers. Jazz writing in general seems to be a sort of “boys club” in which criticism of established figures is never done. Burns’ documentary is yet another example of this. I have written about King Oliver, Billie Holiday (both, not surprisingly, presented herein as jazz icons) and many others in my article “Over-rated Jazz Musicians” and need not reiterate my points here other than to mention that there is nothing original being offered here either by Burns or his “experts” to disprove what I have written.
In fact, there is nothing original that is offered in this documentary at all. Burns’ first acclaimed documentary, the Civil War, set the tone for those that followed: superficial, easily accessible facts requiring no serious research. The end result is always the same: There are almost no unique ideas or theories offered during the course of Burns’ documentaries. “Jazz” follows the same threadbare approach. While there are numerous fascinating photos and some interesting commentaries (although often wrong-headed and needlessly verbose and pretentious), the failures completely outweigh the modest successes. On a scale of one to ten, I would rate this a 3.
JAZZ BY KEN BURNS
Ken Burns’ widely touted film documentaries have become extremely popular over the past twenty or so years, and this effort, from 2001, employs his usual strategies, including countless photos and interviews with key experts. However, as with all his other efforts (at least the ones I’ve seen), the research is somewhat shabby and superficial; in addition to numerous factual errors, there are far too many other problems for this documentary to be taken seriously. These include inexcusable omissions, far too much emphasis placed on key figures (many of whom are quite over-rated) and some rather bizarre emphases on minor, even irrelevant figures, at the expense of those who made much more significant contributions to the music.
An example of misspent focus is seen in the long discussion of Jim Europe, a pre-jazz concert band leader who made numerous extremely disappointing recordings before his 1919 murder by a band member. There is little if any jazz in these recordings; the rhythms are mechanical, and the overall approach not at all dissimilar to recordings of other black bandleaders of the time, including W.C. Handy, Ford Dabney, and Wilbur Sweatman. In fact, one could make a better case for each of these being a precursor to jazz rather than Europe. There are other problems as well; Europe’s band occasionally plays alarmingly out of tune and the overall approach to the material is quite conventional. The closest this group comes to any kind of jazz is a short trombone break by (probably) Herb Flemming, who later proved himself to be a jazz artist on numerous 1920s recordings, particularly with Sam Wooding’s orchestra (Wooding, like so many other influential artists, is never mentioned in this documentary). Jim Europe’s band sounds more like a well-meaning high school wind ensemble of a century ago than a group that was supposed to be, as this documentary would have us believe, a major jazz influence. Why Burns and his associates chose to put so much emphasis on Jim Europe defies rational explanation.
One could make the case that “Jazz” is a documentary about Louis Armstrong rather than about the totality of jazz history, given the emphasis that is placed upon him; he appears and re-appears throughout each series. And, each time his name is brought up, Armstrong is practically deified time and again. To be sure, Armstrong was a crucially important figure, but so much time is spent on him that other important contemporaries are either ignored altogether or else given short shrift. For example, Henry “Red” Allen, called by Don Ellis the most avant-garde of jazz trumpeters, was an extremely lyrical improvisor and innovator whose sense of rhythm often transcended bar lines. Unlike Armstrong, who peaked early and became more and more set in his ways, Allen remained a creative force all his life. Yet he is mentioned only in passing. Even so, he makes out better than other Armstrong contemporaries such as Punch Miller, Lee Collins, and Louis Prima. And that’s only in New Orleans!
The most glaring omission is seen in the segment on Count Basie. Basie is the central figure in the long discussion of Kansas City jazz. No issue there. Yet Bennie Moten, the man who had the greatest band in Kansas City at that time, the man who gave Basie his start and who set the standard for big band riffing, isn’t mentioned even once! Moten’s ensemble was the greatest of the mid-west big bands in the late 1920s and early 1930s. Moten himself was a composer/pianist whose stature is beyond dispute; his absence from this series is an unconscionable error. It is a complete mystery how he could be overlooked by any competent researcher.
Other key figures are also ignored or else mentioned only in passing: John Kirby’s sextet (called “The biggest little band in the land” during the big band era), Charlie Shavers, J.C. Higginbotham (poll winning jazz trombonist), Earl Hines (possibly, along with Art Tatum, jazz’s greatest pianist) and far too many others. All this is indicative of extremely shallow research and shows a lack of understanding of jazz history. Had Burns spent less time turning Armstrong into a god, he could have included some of these people and made a much better documentary.
One unintentionally funny episode is when saxophonist Branford Marsalis is interviewed. After praising John Coltrane to the sky, he seems to have no problem at all with Coltrane’s forays into honking and screaming, which was all the rage among so-called avant-garde saxophonists in the 1960s. Yet, when Cecil Taylor’s piano work is mentioned, Marsalis dismisses it as “self-indulgent bull&*%#.” Why the double standard?
“Jazz” merely re-enforces the cliches and false conclusions that most jazz critics unthinkingly repeat ad nauseum, particularly in their discussions of certain over-rated performers. Jazz writing in general seems to be a sort of “boys club” in which criticism of established figures is never done. Burns’ documentary is yet another example of this. I have written about King Oliver, Billie Holiday (both, not surprisingly, presented herein as jazz icons) and many others in my article “Over-rated Jazz Musicians” and need not reiterate my points here other than to mention that there is nothing original being offered here either by Burns or his “experts” to disprove what I have written.
In fact, there is nothing original that is offered in this documentary at all. Burns’ first acclaimed documentary, the Civil War, set the tone for those that followed: superficial, easily accessible facts requiring no serious research. The end result is always the same: There are almost no unique ideas or theories offered during the course of Burns’ documentaries. “Jazz” follows the same threadbare approach. While there are numerous fascinating photos and some interesting commentaries (although often wrong-headed and needlessly verbose and pretentious), the failures completely outweigh the modest successes. On a scale of one to ten, I would rate this a 3.
Categories: Music Commentaries