What's your favorite Jason Moran record? (Clay Patrick McBride)

You may remember that whole Most Important Albums of the Decade discussion we had last week here at A Blog Supreme, in reference to the All Songs Considered feature. It didn't seem like we had done enough thinking about the great jazz of the decade. So I asked the regular stable of bloggers supreme to help fill in the gaps. First up: NPR senior producer Walter Ray Watson takes exception. --Ed.

Well, Patrick, your note about how free jazz is stealing from Main Street is all well and good. Yeah, it's making in-roads into more commonplace material for inspiration and discovery, uh huh, and you elect pianist Jason Moran's Black Stars as a representative. Admirable choice and argument: Sam Rivers holds his own, and his art and experience combines with Moran's into something entirely new on that album.

I bet you'd say as much about Miss Circe's gin. But hold on, partner.

I think Moran's Artist In Residence is a stronger portrait of the artist as a leading voice of the "oughts." Check out "Break Down," as his thesis statement:

"Break Down," from Jason Moran, Artist In Residence. Jason Moran, piano; Marvin Sewell, guitar; Tarus Mateen, bass; Nasheet Waits, drums; Adrian Piper, voice.

Purchase: Amazon MP3 / iTunes

Subsequent tracks that use Piper's voice, or even the sound of a pencil scratching across paper, establish Moran as an important artist in our midst. Not only is he a practitioner who reinvents stride piano with both ferocity and restraint, but also someone who takes materials from his own environs -- the studio and live techniques of the hip-hop generation. Moran makes new applications for Grandmaster Flash, Pharcyde, Public Enemy, and yes, yes y'all, Afrika Bambaataa's scratch-centric, beatbox friendly, and bass-heavy music. It seemed to lose its way for some of us after high school, or at least by the down payment on the first house, but he uses it to impressive effect here.

Anyway, Jason Moran belongs at the head of the class, and maybe even a full city block before you get to The Bad Plus. Audi.

If you are in New York, you might consider going to the Vision Festival benefit this weekend, a 28-hour marathon of music and art. I mention it in part because I was invited to participate on a panel about the plight of young artists, but cannot attend. I also mention it, because it frames our first link:

--The Jazz Economy Of New York: WNYC's Soundcheck hosted an interesting discussion with Nate Chinen yesterday about the central paradox of the jazz economy in New York: it's a phenomenally creative time for the music, but a terrible time to be a jazz musician. Or, as Chinen puts it on his blog, "It's a fantastically open time to be a jazz consumer in the city, and a borderline oppressive time to be a jazz artist (economically, not creatively)." It has to do, he says, with the "broken infrastructure" of the whole operation: there's no way to make a living playing sparsely-attended door gigs when the cost of living in New York is ridiculous.

Art exerts a powerful and mysterious pull, but it's not immune to economics. If being a jazz artist is so unsustainable, why don't more people weigh the cost-benefit analysis and quit? Why do people keep going into jazz performance studies at record levels, and apparently staying on the scene? An economist might tell you one of two things: the supply curve is high because artists are supplementing their performance income with other pursuits, or that demand is coming from forces which aren't reflected on the surface of a sparsely-attended door gig: public grants, corporate underwriting, etc. I would venture to say both are probably the case.

Anyway, the Vision Festival benefit is relevant because it's a classic case of musicians taking business into their own hands. The DIY approach of Arts for Art, the organization behind Vision Fest, has relatively low overhead, and fosters a community which understands the importance of throwing into the bucket. The Soundcheck blog muses on this. And speaking of jazz on WNYC: check out the Jazz Loft Project. We'll have more on this fascinating series soon when NPR starts to air some of the radio stories.

--The Jazz Audiences Initiative Awarded $200,000 Grant: Here's something that could be a great thing. A Columbus, Ohio non-profit called the Jazz Arts Group has been awarded $200,000 by the Doris Duke Charitable Foundation to "tackle fundamental questions about how and why people engage with jazz," with a view to building audiences in the future. Here's the press release, and here's more information about the project. If I may send a note of unsolicited advice, I earnestly hope that the Jazz Arts Group seriously consults many young people (and young musicians) about this -- the alternative seems like an incredible waste of time.

--Rock Meets New Orleans Jazz: Tom Waits, Andrew Bird, Jim James (of My Morning Jacket) and many more are currently recording a benefit album with the Preservation Hall Jazz Band. At least those are the artists Pitchfork Media led with: Pete Seeger, Dr. John, Steve Earle, The Blind Boys Of Alabama, Merle Haggard and others make the disc too. (I'm told through the grapevine that Waits just recorded "Tootie Ma Is A Big Fine Thing" yesterday.) Speaking of Pitchfork and jazz, here's their review of Vijay Iyer's Historicity -- given a score somewhat uncommensurate with its glowing review, but I presume Vijay'll take it.

--More On Jazz.com: Howard Mandel speculates -- and in the comments, digs a little deeper -- on the post-Ted Gioia future of the site.

--Michel Camilo's Piano Concerto No. 1: Was the centerpiece of the Dominican-born pianist's performance last night with the Detroit Symphony Orchestra. As in, he wrote it and performed it. Preview here, review here. The performance inaugurates his role as jazz creative director of the DSO, a two-year stint. Related: the Michel Camilo trio, recorded live at the 2009 Newport Jazz Festival.

Johnny Mercer wrote lyrics for over 1,500 songs. That is ridiculous. (Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library)

Songwriter (and singer, and composer) Johnny Mercer would have been 100 on Wednesday. NPR, first-draft cultural historians that we are, was on the case. Twice, even: here's a profile of the man's career, with plenty of bonus online-only listening, from All Things Considered; and here's a studio performance of Mercer music with Dave Frishberg and Rebecca Kilgore on Fresh Air.

Mercer, of course, wrote lyrics for many jazz standards: "Skylark," "Come Rain Or Come Shine," "I'm Old Fashioned," "The Days Of Wine And Roses," "Satin Doll," the English version of "Autumn Leaves" ... it keeps going. And in thinking about his incredible accomplishments, it struck me then that we may never again have any new jazz standards.

Of course, some modern songwriters lend themselves to being covered more than others. Radiohead songs are popular with jazz folk; so are Bjork's. At least three of the more acclaimed (and personal favorite) CD releases this year have Stevie Wonder tunes on them: Vijay Iyer's Historicity covers "Big Brother," from Talking Book; Stefon Harris' Urbanus takes on "They Won't Go (When I Go)," from Fulfillingness' First Finale; and Gretchen Parlato's In A Dream leads off with "I Can't Help It," first recorded by Michael Jackson on Off The Wall. I asked Parlato about Stevie Wonder in an interview which I'm currently preparing:

He's definitely a pop artist who jazz musicians can -- they can see and hear and feel how his music can be performed in a different way. It's a pop song, but it's so classic that it can almost be treated as a jazz standard.

And yes, certain modern pop songs still have a wide cultural echo. (There are certainly young musical talents today who will be remembered on their centennials like Mercer, I would think.) Rihanna's "Umbrella" certainly inspired scores of covers during and after the summer of 2007; it even resulted in an album for one such YouTube submitter. (The tune has been on my mind, since I wrote about it recently for NPR's Song Of The Day Decade In Review.) I can easily see how a jazz artist might invert (subvert?) "Umbrella" for his or her own twisted purposes.

Then again, I can't think of any jazz musicians taking it on so far. (And no, some random sophomore vocal major at the New School doesn't count.) Nor have any single Bjork, Radiohead or even Stevie songs become jam session regulars. You could try to track jazz covers of pop music (or even jazz covers of jazz music) in hopes of compiling a new songbook, but it would be far too broad and too diffuse to even know where to start looking.

Or am I way off about this?

Coleman Hawkins and company in 1960: Man, whatchu looking at? (Express/Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

My boss readily admits that she doesn't know a whole lot about jazz. But she lets me write all this nonsense on the Internet, so I'm not complaining. And at least she's willing to learn. So every week -- or at least as often as possible -- she and I get together to listen to and Instant Message about a different great jazz song.

The last time -- and the first time -- that the Boss Lady and I IM-ed each other, we listened to recordings featuring Lester Young. So I thought it important to feature that other great early tenor saxophone master, Coleman Hawkins. This week is as good a time as any to listen to "Body And Soul" -- Hawk would have been 105 this Saturday.

"Body And Soul," from Coleman Hawkins, Body And Soul (Bluebird). Original Issue Bluebird 10523/mx. Coleman Hawkins, tenor saxophone; with Joe Guy, trumpet; Tommy Lindsay, trumpet; Earl Hardy, trombone; Jackie Fields, saxophone; Eustis Moore, saxophone; Eugene Rogers, piano; William Smith, bass; Arthur Herbert, drums. New York, N.Y.: Oct. 11, 1939.

Purchase: Amazon.com / Amazon MP3 / iTunes

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me: So do you think you've heard this before?

Boss Lady: My memory is like a sieve.

me: Well, all right then. What do you think?

Boss Lady: Very comforting. Just what I could use right now.

me: What's comforting about it, do you think?

me: You know, this was once an immensely popular recording -- a lot of people learned to sing along to it, including the solo.

Boss Lady: He has such an expressive "voice." Not too sentimental, but full of feeling.

me: Yes, yes and yes. That's part of why so many saxophonists studied this record so intently.
The melody -- do you know it?

Boss Lady: Once again, the answer is no. Sadly.

me: Well, "Body and Soul" is one of those American songbook numbers which became jazz standards. But you would be excused for not recognizing it, because ... you hardly hear it.
You know how in jazz, it's often: melody, then solos, then melody?

Boss Lady: Yes. But what do you mean by "solo"? I thought it was when one instrument takes a turn in the spotlight. This seems like one big solo for the sax. What am I missing?

me: Ok, I'll be more clear -- it is almost exclusively a feature for the saxophone, true. In modern jazz, there's often melody, then improvisation, then melody. Here there's a heavily modified melody statement, then improvisation the rest of the way through.

Boss Lady: Does that fact change the way you feel the music?

me: Kinda sorta. Sometimes, your expectation is that, ok, time for this to wrap up already and move on to the final section.
That's the thing about this recording though -- it creates its own rules.

Boss Lady: Well, I like the way it feels freer and freer and more intense as it moves forward.

me: Exactly. By the last chorus, that saxophonist is reaching for some really powerful peaks -- check out 2:34. Quick denouement, coda and then we're out.

Boss Lady: Start sweet and narrow and stretch out by the end.

me: Right.
So, abstract question, I know, but: what is the general shape of the saxophone line?
What are its salient characteristics? How is that thing moving along?

Boss Lady: It moves ... upward, in overlapping arches.

me: Aha! Lots of arpeggios, right?

Boss Lady: Yeah. It's not arpeggios the way Art Tatum did them ... really linear and direct.

me: It's what this particular saxophonist was known for: so-called "vertical" improvisation. It's almost like every time the harmony shifts, he's outlining every chord, but in all these new ways.

Boss Lady: It gives his playing a casual air.

me: This was the system of a one Coleman Hawkins. Who was ... ?

Boss Lady: The inventor of the Coleman stove, in addition to being a fabulous sax player.

me: I'll give you half credit on that.
He was the first great tenor saxophonist.

Boss Lady: Did no one take it seriously as a solo instrument before him?

me: Before him, the main saxophones in jazz were of either the soprano or C melody (now obscure) varieties. And yes, the saxophone was a funny novelty instrument in march and dance bands ... the clarinet was really the jazz reed in the music's early days.
Hawkins helped to change that image by learning to improvise on it.

Boss Lady: It certainly has a warmer sound than the clarinet.

me: I think *his* saxophone has a warmer sound than some clarinets, sure, and especially here. It's part of why he made this instrument so popular.

Boss Lady: Well I can see why. Wish I could go to one of his shows. Can you fire up the time machine?

me: If he weren't over a century old -- and moreover, dead for a half century -- I would get you a ticket.
For now, this weekend would be a good time to catch up on your Hawk.
He would have been 105 this Saturday.

Boss Lady: OK, here's to Coleman Hawkins. If he was anywhere near as swell as his music, I'm in love.

The Bad Plus: hot important or not? (John Christenson)

Yesterday on All Songs Considered, NPR's The Decade In Music multi-pronged retrospective continues with a look at the 50 Most Important Recordings of the 2000s.

Two jazz records made the final tally: The Bad Plus' These Are The Vistas and Jason Moran's Black Stars. I had something to do with both being on there, but certainly wasn't the only one making decisions about what made or didn't make the list. These things are completely unscientific (how to define "important" in the first place?), which is the point, as far as I see: they're meant to generate discussion. Speaking of which, I done did some talking on the podcast too.

I also wrote some blurbs about both records, which I want to discuss and expand upon. I also want to ask: what other records could have made the list? But first: Should there even be jazz records on here in the first place?

Granted, it would also follow that Panda Bear should be off the list and Miley Cyrus on, or that The Velvet Underground should be off the 1969 list because nobody paid the band any mind at the time. So let us accept some vague notion of future historical importance and abandon this meta-narrative digression like a cheesy science-fiction loophole. Moving on ...

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The Bad Plus, These Are The Vistas

What I wrote: The fact that most everybody in the stratified jazz world was talking about this record circa 2003 is evidence enough of its importance. The fact that it got people outside "jazz" to listen was the real coup, though. That'll happen when you play covers of Nirvana, Aphex Twin and Blondie as an acoustic piano trio, sure. But it's far more than novelty appeal: Ethan Iverson, Reid Anderson and Dave King reverently used the tunes as frameworks for distinct, original improvisation. Plus, knottily textured originals, nutso percussion and bass that would challenge your car's Alpine subwoofer. Love it or hate it, it was impossible to ignore -- and will you look at that, the musical ideas had staying power, too.

I wrote about this record for Jazz Now too, and it struck me then that this particular album catalyzed a generation of jazz fans and musicians. The members of The Bad Plus weren't the first to do modern pop covers, but they certainly got the most attention for it. So their record reached a lot of fans and students with the overt message that jazz improvisation can converse with contemporary music -- that it wasn't just an officially-sanctioned blast from the past. (Perhaps it was a little obvious, but how else would they have gotten that point past Arts section editors across the country?) There was a lot more to this album than "Smells Like Teen Spirit," of course, but the rock meets jazz aesthetic of three white guys from the Upper Midwest was clearly the hook.

Have we framed the question correctly around Jason Moran? (Clay Patrick McBride)

Jason Moran, Black Stars

What I wrote: Jazz has spent its last 50 years dealing with both the promise and difficulties posed by free improvisation. On his third album, a 26-year-old Jason Moran embraced its potential for dazzling brilliance by couching it in an inclusive, even schizoid take on jazz history. He embraces post-bop as readily as he reconfigures the music of Duke Ellington, Thelonious Monk and early stride piano masters. The second step was to get multi-instrumentalist Sam Rivers, a pioneer in making the avant approachable, to guest star (at age 77). As it turns out, the final result is full of density and percussive pianism -- but also warm moments of strained beauty -- all supported by powerful technique from all involved.

If we were just talking about the arrival of a promising new voice, I could also have picked one of Moran's Bandwagon trio albums with Tarus Mateen and Nasheet Waits, either Facing Left or the live Village Vanguard recording. But Black Stars, I think, speaks especially to what's happened between "free" and "mainstream" jazz recently: that to today's young musicians, they're both toolkits to be mined and recombined at will. Ok, sure, so artists have been doing this since free jazz first emerged -- see the Blue Note catalog circa 1964. But here was someone from the middle-class, half-academic training system that is modern jazz education, inculcated in a Jazz History of which he was several generations removed, and mixing and matching with uniquely 21st-century sounds to create a Frankenstein-like jazz. (Having Jaki Byard as your teacher helps.) Speaking of the Blue Note catalog circa 1964, Sam Rivers was on here too, which is also important: the 2000s featured great music from veterans like him. Not to mention that this was Moran's statement album, the one which landed him the full attention of jazz people.

Funny how both albums are somewhat alike: at the core of both are heavy, virtuosic piano trios striving for an edgy sort of originality. This in an age where the absence of pianos and chordal instruments is as or more common than ever. But I think these two records readily highlight different things about their creation which speak for the age at large.

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What else could have (or should have made) the top 50? I took a quick Twitter poll last week, and found some submissions worth considering:

--Composer and saxophonist Steve Lehman (@thestevelehman) nominated Craig Taborn's Junk Magic as "Pretty clearly the most advanced/refined example of 'electro-jazz' for the past 10 years." [That quotation is expanded from Twitter abbreviations.] I am inclined to agree. A few others mentioned David Torn, who is up that alley too.

--We got a lot of love for veteran musicians, and especially "free jazz" pioneers: Ornette Coleman, William Parker, Wadada Leo Smith, Bill Dixon, and so forth. With jazz artists living longer than ever, there are a lot of older artists who are making essential and definitive recordings. I might also nominate Wayne Shorter's Alegria, Abbey Lincoln's Abbey Sings Abbey, and almost any of Charles Lloyd's records for consideration. Andrew Hill's Time Lines would be on a top 10 of the decade list of mine.

--The usual suspects deserve a mention too: Dave Douglas, Vijay Iyer, Brad Mehldau, Chris Potter, Kurt Rosenwinkel, Jim Black's AlasNoAxis and Brian Blade all made ground-shifting recordings this decade. That deserves to be acknowledged ...

Personally, I would have also liked to have seen:

--A representative of big band jazz. Why anyone makes the economic decision to do it regularly any more baffles me -- paying so many folks has to be an unprofitable operation in many cases -- but in an age jump-started by innovations from Maria Schneider and Guillermo Klein, the format seems to be experiencing a rebirth. From the recent recorded output of Dave Douglas, John Hollenbeck and Roy Hargrove, it seems as if it's a thing which successful musicians still dream of doing once they can afford it.

--Something that indicates the trajectory of Latin jazz this decade; it's not just a synonym for Afro-Cuban jazz any more. There's something tremendously exciting about what's happening now with musicians like Ed Simon, David Sanchez, Danilo Perez, Jerry Gonzalez, Claudia Acuna, Luciana Souza, Dafnis Prieto and many others; they're generating studied but wholly natural and immediately appealing syntheses of folkloric traditions and modern jazz. The more I listen to Miguel Zenon's Esta Plena, fusing Puerto Rico's plena with a very contemporary bag, the more I think it's a premier representative of this trend. Moreover, globalism has filtered through jazz thoroughly: see Either/Orchestra, or Rudresh Mahanthappa, or like half the ECM jazz catalog this decade ...

--Vocal jazz. More on this yet to come.

Indeed, more on all this later. For now: What other jazz records would you have put on a list of The Decade's 50 Most Important Recordings?

Where Gary Giddins helped us pick this week's Take Five. (!)

--Ethan Iverson Interviews 'Tootie' Heath: The Jazz Internet's best interviewer gets another master musician to open up. And he also writes about Paul Bley for Destination: OUT. We shouldn't have to tell you by now that both are important reading.

--Ted Gioia Steps Down From Jazz.com Leadership: Gioia, the site editor and a major contributor, sent an e-mail last week to his writers and other media types, and JazzTimes has a confirmation. He has no comment about the future of the site. This is sad: in under three years of his leadership, jazz.com went from non-existent to one of my daily must-reads. Let the speculation begin ...

--15 Fashion-Forward Jazz Musicians: John Murph captions some photos for The Root. Usual suspects like Banana Republicans David Sanchez and Esperanza Spalding appear, as do some more offbeat choices like Theo Bleckmann and Leo Tardin. I recently met Murph, who occasionally contributes to NPR and once worked here, at a Gretchen Parlato show (she also makes the list), and dude was dressed pretty impeccably too. I certainly would trust his sartorial eye over my clearance-rack tastes.

--A New Tommy Ladnier Book: It is here, and I heard about it here. An under-recorded and under-remembered early trumpeter, this guy.

--23 Year Old Takes Over Jazz Club: The Blue Wisp in Cincinnati is hiring a senior University of Cincinnati marketing student to be its general manager. Cincinnati.com has a interview with Jackie Walsh, who, two years ago, "didn't really even like jazz." After a few years of working there, Walsh now says, "My stereotype of jazz wasn't what it truly is."

Tatsu Aoki's Miyumi Project combines Taiko drums with bass and woodwinds. Aoki is the bassist on the right. (courtesy of the artist)

This weekend in Chicago, the Midwest chapter of Asian Improv aRts is putting on its 14th Annual Chicago Asian American Jazz Festival. Over three days, artists like Jeff Chan, Francis Wong and Jeff Parker will appear on stage, along with several other lesser-known ensembles led by or featuring Asian Americans.

Bassist Tatsu Aoki is the executive director of Asian Improv aRts Midwest, as well as the founder and artistic director of the Chicago Asian American Jazz Festival. Born to an artistic family in Japan, he's long held interests in experimental filmmaking and experimental music. As a jazz performer, he plays the double bass, and also incorporates his work on shamisen and Taiko drums into his music.

As my surname might suggest, I myself am Thai-American, and I've always been interested in the perspectives of fellow Asian Americans who have dedicated their lives to jazz and improvised music. Asian Americans have experienced many different paths in this music, but the specific framework of "Asian American Jazz" has been particularly meaningful for a sizeable group of musicians since the late 1970s. A 2001 NPR report by Reese Ehrlich, aired on the now-defunct Weekly Edition, provides a good introduction to the idea:

Aoki has long subscribed to the movement's tenets, and with the 14th anniversary of his festival afoot, I thought it an appropriate time to ask him about it. Over the phone, I interviewed Aoki about the utility and intent of an Asian American jazz festival:

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Why have a specifically Asian American jazz festival?

One of the reasons is that we, as a community of Asian Americans -- one is to break off the stereotype of what we have in the society. Because we, at Asian Improv aRts, both at San Francisco and in Chicago, have a distinct gallery of sound that is employed by all of our artists that are Asian Americans. Some rooted music of our Asian heritage, or Asian American originality, is very different from other types of music. Many years ago, we decided to name this Asian American jazz.

Of course, the frontier of this movement came from a lot of artists from the Bay Area: People like Jon Jang, Mark Izu, Miya Masaoka, Glenn Horiuchi, Anthony Brown and many others in the Bay Area. I had the opportunity to collaborate with the Bay Area artists in the early '90s, and I joined the organization Asian Improv aRts, and expanded that operation to the Midwest. In Chicago, we started the [Asian American Jazz] Festival 14 years ago. After this year's festival, we have the 15th year anniversary, which is in 2010.

Why do you think it is important to have an artistic community centered around the idea of Asian American-ness?

I think one of the reasons [is that] we all agree: In society -- not just in this musical community -- in many cases that Asian Americans are excluded, or maybe Asian American something is not really paid attention to much by the majority of society. So it's important to initiate this circle: To keep us going, and present art from our communities.

If you look at the major, mainstream festivals, our question is: How often do you see one of us represented? So I think it's important to have this festival, so that we make sure that some of our people who are doing wonderful work are consistently presented within the community, as well as for people outside the community.

Oh, I think so. I think creatively and artistically, that's very true. We also agree that creatively and artistically, we bring in our own heritage into these wonderful collaborations. But I think, aside from the content: One, the reason that we're calling this Asian American music, or Asian American jazz, is that we're basing our artistic venture with our Asian American experience. So I think that is a specific agenda, but I think artistic collaboration is, like you said, colorless.

Except now we get into who's presenting our work: Then I think our equal opportunity theory doesn't work, because we generally feel like we're not being presented well by mainstream events. So that's the part where we decided to organize our own festival.

Tatsu Aoki. (courtesy of the artist)

So my next question was: off the stage, do you feel like being Asian or Asian American affects the way other people look at you as an artist? Does it affect media coverage, or how people experience your work?

Yea. I think it's all connected to our Asian American experience, which is -- you know, I don't want to get too much into a racial discussion, but I do think we are a minority community, and we have a lot of disadvantage being a part of the Asian American community. Especially, I would say: [the] Asian American community is different than the Asian [community]. In many cases, the general public welcomes foreign guests, so to speak. But there is less appreciation to the Asian American diaspora in the society. And we feel that we need to reinforce that idea, so everybody understands that there are specific experiences and specific ethnic identities for Asian Americans that are a little bit different from Asians in Asia.

So you're emphasizing the American part of Asian American.

Right. Because we're really viewed many times as foreigners. Any of the bad jokes coming from where you're from -- all the Chinaman jokes -- that's really based on the fact that you're still a foreigner. And we sometimes feel that we do not earn equal citizenship as members of the community. And that was basically the origin of the [Asian American] movement, both in arts and the social movement in the '80s. At least with my organization.

This whole notion of Asian American jazz is a very expansive one. I know you're originally from Japan, and incorporate a lot of Japanese sounds and concepts into your art. As a point of comparison, take a third-generation hapa person who happens to have attended, say, Juilliard and is primarily interested in straight-ahead jazz. Is there value in calling that Asian American jazz too?

Well, it depends on how you identify with the concept of Asian American music. With the Asian American arts organization that we are continuing, people always are all about art reflecting some of the influences of their origins. You know, in New York, we have people like Rudresh Mahanthappa who are doing real hip, you know funky, nice jazz, but it's really embedded in other parts of the world, like his [parent's] origins. Vijay Iyer, also. Miya Masaoka's work always had something to do with Asian American ethnicity. So I think it's a very specific idea.

And it's really different from someone who does not associate that musical experience to Asian American origins. Which is fine, too. But I think there's a difference between performing and believing Asian American arts, or Asian Americans performing some form of art. And I think it's the same with Francis Wong's work, or Jon Jang's work, or Fred Ho in New York -- all those great artists have that agenda incorporated into whatever they are doing.

There's this other thing -- you were talking about Rudresh Mahanthappa, and Vijay Iyer, and Miya Masaoka -- from my casual reading of musicians who sometimes identify with this Asian American aesthetic, a relatively large percentage are into "avant-garde" forms.

Right right right. I think it's a very inevitable thing: You are interested in what is happening in American society, and also you're trying to find the roots of the origin, and you have this really interesting music and sound. In my case, it's a lot of Japanese folkloric music that I grew up with. In Chicago, we have some blues musicians like Yoko Noge, who's basically a Chicago boogie-woogie blues singer, but she does a lot of Japanese folk songs in that style. You know, Francis Wong also has Chinese influences, Jon Jang is the same way. And all these great artists have all that mixture of that same culture -- two, three or more cultures.

Right. Though what I was trying to get to is that a lot of these artists tend to be into -- I don't know, at least in the accepted way of looking at it -- the more progressive bent to their work.

I think people especially like Miya Masaoka, who is really a member of the original Asian American jazz movement coming from the Bay Area -- looking at the work of Miya, Jon Jang, Francis Wong, Glenn Horiuchi, they were very, very new at the time incorporating all these different sounds and instruments. And I think that's why they were identified as progressive and avant-garde, because they really didn't know what to call that.

If you look at the early releases of Asian Improv Records, there's so much of a Asian instruments, and spoken word, and dances, and all that stuff. It's kind of like AACM in Chicago, and I think definitely that would be categorized as a progressive or avant-garde. Today, I think we can say that particular style or idea to be Asian American music. I don't necessarily like the term "Asian American jazz," but I think that many years ago, it was very self-explanatory for a lot of people to identify with. You know, when we were asked, "What kind of music is this?" We'd say, "Well, you know, it's a jazz and progressive improvisation, but it's Asian American." And [that's why] I think "Asian American jazz" was named.

Do you yourself see any parallel between this art form developed by African Americans, and--

Yes. My musical experiences in Chicago are all collaborations between African American musicians. If you look at my discography, I played with a lot of AACM people!

Yes, I know you've worked closely with Fred Anderson and others ...

Yea, yea. So I think the live experience and also the musical experience -- I think [there are] a lot of collaborations with African American musicians. And Glenn Horiuchi had a relationship with Leo Smith in L.A., and all these Chicago musicians who went to the West Coast often hooked up with Asian American musicians. You know, people like Jon Jang have played with Max Roach, and all that stuff is really -- I think we share that musical folklore concept with a lot of African American musicians.

Anything else on your mind about Asian Americans and jazz?

Well, I think it's great that people like you guys are kind of interested in reviving this particular category of this music. [Ed. Note: I didn't mean to suggest to Aoki that I was interested in "reviving" Asian American jazz -- just interested in covering it at large.] Because we think we have something distinctive about our experience that's coming out in the music. And for us, it's the 15th year starting from original Bay Area musicians -- their original festival back there.

And today, I think a younger generation of musicians in Los Angeles just started an Asian American Jazz Festival. Interestingly enough, I don't think they really knew about this whole 20-some years of history by Bay Area artists or Chicago artists, but they decided to do this festival. And I think it's really interesting how that diaspora of a new generation are identifying themselves as an Asian American jazz festival. I did talk to them a little bit, and I think Jon Jang and Francis Wong also communicated with the organizers there in L.A. I think it's wonderful that we can do all that stuff.

Asian Improv Records -- we have about 80 releases. It's a small label, but I think we captured great documentation. I think people like Vijay and Miya Masaoka -- they all had one or two pieces with us in the past, with our label. So I think it's really wonderful that we're continuing this label in some way -- indirectly or directly -- I think it's really wonderful.

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The 14th Chicago Asian American Jazz Festival ends this Saturday at the Velvet Lounge.

RIP Dick Katz, great jazz pianist, Milestone Records co-founder and general Mensch, at age 85. The New York Times obituary. Also, remembrances and a short video from WNYC.

--Newport Jazz Festival Archives Released: The big news of the week is that the audio archivists at Wolfgang's Vault have finally unveiled the first batch of recordings from their massive cache of historical Newport Jazz Festival tapes. Some time ago, festival head-dude-in-charge George Wein sold the entirety of his festival recording archives to Wolfgang's Vault, who have spent millions of dollars cataloging and doing digital transfers. (As an aside, earlier this year I got to visit the Wolfgang's archives in their Manhattan office building, where they have a small room with four heavy-duty reel-to-reel tape players and like nine twenty-something interns cutting tape. Amusing sight.) The sound is good, the music is great and there's much more to come. Related: NPR/WBGO/WGBH recordings of the 2009 Newport Jazz Festival.

--Jazz Photographs From Seattle: A Seattle-based photographer named Daniel Sheehan recently wrote in to plug his jazz photoblog. I was like, yea, OK, whatever -- but I had a look, and there's some really vivid stuff in there. Sheehan happens to have written in just after the Earshot Jazz Festival ended, and took some great shots that really capture the excitement of what happened. (Cyro Baptista and John Hollenbeck, for example, are wearing phenomenal hats.) It's at eyeshotjazz.com.

--Nextbop Artists Select Their Favorite Music: Our friends in Montreal asked some of the artists featured on their Web site to help them create a playlist of songs: any music, in any genre, that they're currently listening to. Cool idea -- looks to be happening on the regular too. Have a listen.

--Seven Overlooked Jazz Guitar Albums: Man, I am a sucker for any list of records billed as "overlooked." This one features some live Jim Hall, Pat Metheny with Gary Burton, Jimmy Raney and more.

--Clifford Brown, Pulling Strings: Finally, trumpeter Jason Palmer shares a great story about talking to Clifford Brown's widow. Learn about Brownie's doughnut addiction, and the true story behind Clifford Brown With Strings.

Worlds colliding: Ken Vandermark's Caffeine, with Jim Baker (keyboards) and Steve Hunt (drums), performs at the Sugar Maple in Milwaukee, Wis. (Md2545 / Flickr)

Dedicated fans of out jazz know Bruno Johnson's Okka Disk record label for putting out discs by several of today's leading free improvisers: Fred Anderson, Peter Brotzmann, Ken Vandermark and the like. Epicurean tipplers of Milwaukee, Wis. know Bruno Johnson as co-owner of two of the city's great watering holes: the Sugar Maple (60 beers on tap!) and the Belgian-beer-specializing Palm Tavern, both in the neighborhood of Bay View.

Good music by day, craft beer by night -- literally. Basically, Johnson has the Best. Life. Ever.

Milwaukee happens to be this blogger's hometown, so on a recent trip back, I made it a point to find out more about Johnson's multiple enterprises, and if they intersected at all. You wouldn't call Milwaukee a world-class jazz city, but there's certainly some good music going on, and Chicago is less than two hours down the Interstate. So I brought a microphone and digital recorder to the Palm Tavern, where Johnson graciously agreed to an interview in spite of his migraine:

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OkkaDisk is 15 years old now. Take me back to that: Why did you start the label, and what inspired you?

Well, I had made a lot of money as a bartender, and since I had been in the record business doing rock music ... I saw Fred Anderson perform at a show with the Ken Vandermark quartet, and I talked to Fred about doing a recording -- which he hadn't done in a while -- and he immediately called me the next day and said he had a tape already done, and was ready to go. And since he said he would do it, I couldn't back down, and we started. And I've been going ever since.

You said you had your own small rock label. This must have been when you weren't that old yourself.

I was probably in my late twenties when I first started. I've been in the record business my whole adult life, and I did some rock records in the early '80s. But it just wasn't as interesting to me. I'd started listening to jazz since my twenties, and it's more interesting musically -- it's just a lot more interesting than rock music. So I kind of stopped with the rock label, and started up anew with the jazz label.

I also got a job at the Jazz Record Mart, which didn't hurt. I was working there as one of my many jobs.

A lot of the material that you put out is "avant-garde," or creative improvised music. How did you get into that scene? I mean, you must have been in Chicago and listening to this music -- what was it like back then? Ken Vandermark was fairly new to town. Fred Anderson hadn't recorded in many years ...

Well, I originally started out listening to the more "avant-garde" things. A friend of mine I knew in college was more worldly than I, and I was listening to a lot of more really far-out rock music. And he said, "Well, you should listen to the Art Ensemble [of Chicago]," who happened to be coming to town. His thing was, you know, they sounded as wild as the rock bands I was listening to -- Caberet Voltaire, Einsturzende Neubauten -- but they could actually play their instruments.

You also worked at Bob Koester's Jazz Record Mart. What kind of experience was that?

Yea, I was sort of a jack-of-all-trades there. I did some buying, I did the stocking. A good friend of mine has been the manager there for over 20 years, so he gave me whatever job I wanted. But working for Bob was always very interesting. He's very opinionated. He's had his own label for over 55 years. The people who have actually worked there have gone on to become great label owners in both jazz and blues. So it was a good education for me -- a lot things I learned from Bob. A lot of things I learned to not do from Bob as well, but you know, he's sort of an iconoclast. So he gets to be crazy and everybody has to accept it, I guess.

A few recent releases on Bruno Johnson's imprint. (courtesy of Okka Disk)

So basically, you got to know these artists who are record for you just by approaching them at shows and saying, 'Hey, I want to work with you and put out these things.'

Yea, Fred [Anderson] was very approachable; so was Ken [Vandermark]. That's one of the really beautiful things about this end of the music, is that the audience is fairly small, and it's been very stable for the last 30 or 40 years. And musicians are very approachable -- I mean, there are some who aren't, but for the most part, they understand how the music works, and how the system works. So they're very easy to deal with. It's a lot of handshake deals.

'Cause, you know: even a hit is still a marginal sales for anybody. You know, I mean, there are some rock labels which put out as many promos of a release as I do print copies of records altogether. And people understand that's what it is. So even though Peter Brotzmann may have done 250 albums in the last 40 years, he's still somebody you can just talk to after a gig, or before a gig.

Your label is still very much a low-tech thing, and you've carved out a certain identity, and a certain process, and method. As you mentioned, you went up and talked to these musicians yourself. You don't have any signed contracts at all.

I don't. My deal is very much a 50-50 deal with the artist. If they're happy with what I'm doing, and they want me to release a product, then that's what I'll do. If they're not happy, they can have everything I have back, and then go to somebody else with the material. You know, there's not a lot of money involved, so ... people trust me, and I trust them.

It's sort of like the ESP [Disk' recordings] thing. Their quote was always that, "The artist chooses what you'll hear on their ESP Disk'." And I have sort of the same thing. I don't tell them what to record; I don't tell them how to do it. They choose the material they want to use; they can do all the graphics if they want. It's their art. One of the big differences between me and somebody like Bob Koester is that he controls the end product, and I don't. I just see myself as a medium for it, and if the music wants to go somewhere else, then that's where it's going to go, and that's fine as well. It sort of appalls me that people can constantly reissue records by artists, and those artists have nothing to do with that reissue. It's like owning a painting by someone, and once they've sold it, they never can get it again. It just seems sort of wrong to me. It's not a good business model, but it's the way I feel more comfortable.

Lately, there's been something of a resurgence in selling vinyl. Do you experience that at all?

Yea, I actually did a couple LPs last year, and I'm going to do another one with Peter Brotzmann this coming winter. I've actually been sitting around with Ken Vandermark for the last six-or-eight months, sort of strategically planning out for the future. CD sales tend to be on the wane; LPs have sort of re-surged. A lot of it is nostalgia, but a lot of it is that it's more interesting. I prefer an LP to a CD -- it's more physically attractive. And it's more limited, I think. You know, a lot of CDs that are 38 minutes or 45 minutes are beautiful. And some people will then add another 30 minutes because you can. And then you end up with not nearly as interesting a recording -- it kind of loses impact sometimes. So it's nice to see that return. That said, it's far more expensive to do than CDs. Is it going to go away like CDs? Who knows.

It seems to me the digital medium is really becoming quite powerful. I'm kind of a Luddite about it all -- I've never downloaded anything; I don't really understand the whole process, really. I don't know how you spend money getting something that's just a digital file, that conceivably could just disappear off your computer if it crashes, or gets a virus. So it's always been sort of -- I dunno --

Hey, it's worked for you for 15 years. Though I presume you aren't earning a whole lot of profit off these things. Why do you keep doing it?

Well, I'm never going to be a musician myself. I understand -- I played a little bit in a rock band, and I know I'm not as good as I would need to be to even be mediocre. But I can do what I can do, and I think it's beautiful music, and it needs to be disseminated out to people. And owning a label is one of the ways to do that. I have friends who are musicians, and I help them, along with other labels, to get their music out. Which I think is very important.

Somebody like Fred Anderson, who just turns 80 years old -- and people revere him. But he still doesn't make any money doing this, and some day in the near future, he'll be gone. And we can say how wonderful he was, but without anybody helping him, there's just less material out there for him.

Outside the Palm Tavern. (cattoo / Flickr)

I hear that. So let me change directions now. About seven years ago, you came to Milwaukee. Why?

Well, my wife and I are both in the bar business. I had some wonderful jobs -- including working at the Green Mill in Chicago, which is a great jazz bar, and I was a weekend manager there, and I loved it. But I also was getting older, and I was tired of working for others -- great people to work for, but they had the business, and I was just an employee. ... So my wife and I searched Chicago, and couldn't really afford anything there, and then we came to Milwaukee.

So this here is the Palm Tavern -- it's a smaller enterprise compared to the Sugar Maple, which you also own. And that's newer.

I got a cold call from a guy who, with his partners, they were buying a building and wanted to know if I was interested in doing another bar. 'Cause this place [the Palm Tavern] is fairly well-known, and it's got a good reputation. And we thought it was a good chance. It's been a lot of fun: our new place, the Sugar Maple, is 7-8 times the size of the Palm. And it also has a small back room where I can do music. So now, I can actually do live shows and stuff -- and I've had a few people play there. Which is exciting, in its own way.

As I'm looking at everything here, I see a huge list of craft beers, and Belgian beers especially. And local beers: I also read that you have some 60 beers on tap at the Sugar Maple. There's an array of top-shelf whiskeys and such too. You know your booze pretty well.

I know it pretty well, I think. Could always be better, but it's a lot of fun. As I always tell customers, it's America, and we have abundance here: you know, we're the land of plenty, and there's no reason why you shouldn't investigate that. So our new bar has 60 drafts, all American craft beer. It's exciting; America is the best place for beer right now. There's breweries making stuff that nobody else has even thought of doing -- it's just incredible. But also, there's traditional Belgian breweries that make some of the greatest beer in the world. So it's nice: I have the best of both worlds, and it's a lot of fun. I also have whiskey, which is addictive ...

Bruno Johnson's other bar. (courtesy of the Sugar Maple)

It's certainly been a favorite drink of musicians for many years. So what about the reception here in Milwaukee? Does anybody here know you run this record label?

Some people do. Much like Chicago, the scene is kind of insular. People who know the artists know the artists, and some people don't know it even exists at all. A lot of people know jazz as much as they can by knowing Miles Davis, you know. Or Bill Evans, maybe. There are some people in town who actually know me, and they don't even know I own bars -- they know I own a record label, but they're not interested in bars. But it's a pretty well-kept secret, I guess, really.

What's the market like here? Is there a local free improvisation scene in the line of Chicago's?

Not as large. There's a few bands that have been playing here for years ... but that's really about it. There's not really a huge scene.

This spring was your 15th anniversary of Okka Disk. And you actually put on a few concerts at the Sugar Maple. You had some internationally-known artists: Taylor Ho Bynum and Tomas Fujiwara, Joe McPhee and Ken Vandermark were here. Peter Brotzmann, Fred Anderson came up. How did that go?

Oh, it was very successful. I was really happy. We initially started because Peter was looking for a show for the trio he was touring with [Ed.: Nasheet Waits, drums and Eric Revis, bass] -- I always say yes to Peter, so of course we put him on -- and it's an interesting group that Peter put together. They did 10 or 12 dates. And we got them to play on a Saturday night. And then my wife said, "Well, if we're doing all that, why don't we do a little mini-festival?" So we called Joe McPhee, and he came; and Ken came; and we got Fred Anderson to play. And it went quite well. I lost money, but it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it was going to be. It was a really good turnout -- almost everything was sold out, which was really good. It was fun, so we may even do it yearly now, as a tradition.

Do you have anything else you'd like to say about where Okka Disk is going? Anything about the bar business, and craft brewers in America? The Midwest? Milwaukee?

Well, the Midwest is getting to be very exciting with beer. There are more and more breweries opening up that are shooting for excellence -- not just shooting to sell a lot of beer. So beer is great -- we'll always be drinking beer, I think. As for jazz: it's something I've been doing for 15 years. I may not be the smartest man now with technology, but it's a lot of fun, and I hope to always be doing it. As long as there's a market -- as long as there's something to be said, and to be done, I'll keep on doing it.

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Visit Okka Disk online for more information.

Doesn't Christian McBride look like he belongs in the Rat Pack? (courtesy of the artist)

You learn a lot about musicians when you hijack their digital music players and set them to access files randomly. For instance, bassist Christian McBride apparently records messages from his answering machine -- from the seemingly mundane (Herbie Hancock calling about a gig) to the sublime (Abbey Lincoln singing "Happy Birthday" to him).

Before I created The Checkout, I made a radio series about jazz called Living With Music. Christian McBride was a prime candidate for the show. In two decades, he has played with the biggest names in jazz and pop music. He's the creative chair for jazz at the Los Angeles Philharmonic (at least until Hancock takes over next year), co-director of the National Jazz Museum in Harlem, host of his own radio show ... and he's not even 40. Oh, and he plays a lot of bass.

Since we're presenting Christian McBride live at the Village Vanguard (Wednesday Nov. 11 at 9 p.m. ET), I thought I would revisit this game of Shuffle I played with Christian. Without giving away all the details, let's just say he's listened to the Frank Sinatra and Count Basie concert at The Sands many times, and he also has a scratchy analog-to-digital transfer of this:

"Lots of unusual things happen in traveling. A few weeks ago, I'm riding a train between New York and Washington. When I boarded the train, my first thought's to find my seat, get settled and relax. Once I had gotten settled, I glance across the aisle, and I notice the woman occupying her seat there had her baby there with her. Ugly baby. Bad-looking baby. And I want to make it clear that generally I'd be reluctant to express an opinion of someone's kid -- but I know an ugly baby when I see one. ... There's this fellow in the coach -- he's half-smashed -- when he gets to the section with the woman is with her baby, he stops. And he's staring. And the lady's watching him. She heard him when he said to himself, "Damn." And the lady says, "What are you looking at?" And the guy says, "I'm looking at that ugly baby. That's a bad looking baby, lady. That's a hell of a kid you got there. [whistles] I bet you save a lot of money with that baby. You don't have to hire a babysitter -- no one's going to bother that kid." The woman took this as an offense. She pulls the emergency cord, the train stops, there's a big scene, the conductor comes running in. "So what's going on in here? What's going on in here?" And the lady says, "This man just insulted me! I don't have to spend my money to ride this railroad and be insulted." The conductor says, "Now, calm down lady. Madam, the railroad will go to any extent to avoid having differences between the passengers. So perhaps it would be more to your convenience if we would rearrange your seating. And, as a small compensation from the railroad, if you'll accompany me to the dining car, we'll give you a free meal. And maybe we'll find a banana for your monkey."

Willard Jenkins. (Ronnie James)

I started reading Willard Jenkins' blog, The Independent Ear, well before I knew who he was or that he even lived in the Washington, D.C. metropolitan area. Jenkins, of course, is what you might call a heavy cat: he's a tremendously successful arts administrator, writer, educator, radio broadcaster, festival producer and general-purpose jazz consultant. Check out the Open Sky Jazz Web site for more information.

I've been especially interested in his series of conversations with African American jazz writers, which he calls Ain't But A Few Of Us. I've always been curious about the relative dearth of black writers (or folks who aren't white males) covering jazz in prominent locations, and have even lobbed a few attempts to induce further inquiry about the issue. So it's been revealing to read the candid thoughts of folks I admire like A.B. Spellman, K. Leander Williams and Greg Tate, among many other contributors whose work I'm just discovering.

I recently met Jenkins at the annual Congressional Black Caucus Foundation jazz concert, where he moderated a panel discussion about developing a young jazz audience in a world where public schools are continually cutting music education. I followed up with him about his series in an e-mail interview:

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Why did you decide to do this series in the first place?

I decided to run this series because --- and this is quite clear from the various participants in this ongoing dialogue --- clearly, despite the historic origins of this music we call jazz, there have never been an abundance of African Americans (or women, or people of color period) writing about the music. And when you take into account the complete and vast bibliography of jazz you find even fewer African Americans have written books on the subject than those who have contributed to periodicals. So in a way we're exploring that disparity, but more importantly, I wanted to have a dialogue with those who are out here as to their various experiences --- including both triumphs and tribulations.

Why do you call it "serious music"?

I refer to "serious music" as a somewhat covert means of separating the efforts of the participants in this dialogue from those many black writers who've written about black pop --- from blues to R&B to hip hop --- and even they are lacking great numbers compared to their white counterparts.

I think the aggregate responses to the question "Do you think that disparity or dearth of African American writers contributes to how the music is covered?" say it all. I've also found myself numerous times wondering aloud how it is that certain musicians are elevated over others, not that this disparity we're discussing is the sole reason for that/those elevation(s).

Why, if at all, is it important that black people are interested in jazz?

It is important that black people are interested in jazz because it is a core element of African American culture and what African Americans have contributed to American culture. These should be points of great pride in the African American experience.

Why, if at all, is it important that black people write about jazz?

It is important that within the realm of literature written about jazz music, that there is a cultural diversity of voices, including those who come from the community of origin of this music.

Why are there relatively few black jazz bloggers, if blogging is more-or-less free?

I don't have an answer for your perception of a disparity of black jazz bloggers, other than to suggest that it is a microcosm of the central issue of this dialogue -- the overall small numbers of black commentators on jazz.

What's your impression of interest in jazz among black people who are younger -- who are more likely to be bloggers?

My impression of interest in jazz among young black people is something I touched on at the CBCF jazz forum --- those parents from the baby boom generation (my generation) failed to bring jazz music to our children the way our parents brought it to us, primarily by simply having it around the house and playing it. There are a lot of reasons behind that, including the fact that my generation grew up with more choices than our parents' generation did; and succeeding generations have had exceedingly more choices than we had. Not to mention the fact that the baby boom generation grew up during a time when pop-rock-R&B took over and dominated the airwaves, supplanted jazz on the radio, and seized the television medium completely. Consequently I think baby boomers have to a great extent been products of arrested musical development; that is they have stayed with those more popular music genres --- even to the point of being more invested in "oldies" of their development years than in current contemporary music --- and have not grown in terms of their music sensibilities to embrace the more "serious" forms of music, i.e. jazz, classical, contemporary chamber music, opera, etc. Supposedly when we grow and develop we don't for example continue to read books and publications that are geared more towards children or teens. So why not the same relationship with music?

What needs to happen to get African American oriented publications interested in jazz again?

I'm afraid African American publications --- as my colleagues seem to indicate clearly in this dialogue --- are a bit of a lost cause; at least they are until some miracle occurs and jazz music becomes somehow a more commercial art form; and that's something only the most extreme optimists among us can envision.

When we discuss this spectre of race in this country, often we are well-served to talk about class. What does socioeconomic class have to do with jazz fandom, and jazz media?

Socioeconomic class is certainly a factor, particularly when you consider the sheer costs associated with attending live jazz events.

What are the best answers you've heard so far as to how to build the audience for serious music -- especially if music programs keep getting cut from schools?

Stay tuned for those "best answers" ... I'm still in a constant quest for the answers and initiatives that will best serve our need to build a more robust jazz audience.

Carrie Brownstein's excellent Monitor Mix blog is being overtaken this and the next week for NPR Music's End of Decade spectacular. You are encouraged to partake in the wealth of good things there. Soon, I'll be more formally posing the question: what are the most important -- not necessarily best or favorite -- jazz recordings of 2000-2009? So think on that for a while.

--David S. Ware on The NBC Nightly News: Last night, in fact. The Times article that ran last month is somewhat more in depth. His kidney transplant is an affirming story, though one I wouldn't wish on anybody.

--Donald Bailey Profiled: You may recall him from such albums as Jimmy Smith's early Blue Note sessions. He's been living in Oakland, Calif. for a while, where in the last ten years he's gone through three seizures, back surgery, memory loss, a divorce and personal financial hardship. But soon, he's getting two tribute gigs at Yoshi's Oakland, which are also album release parties for his first album as a leader at age 75. Full story in the San Jose Mercury News (H/T Peter Hum).

--Joe Lovano Is All Right: Reports that he suffered a shoulder injury in a freak accident last week were more serious than thought: @joelovano reports that he broke both arms and is cancelling the rest of his gigs for this year. But he also reports that he's convalescing well in Barcelona, and is set to return home this week. Man, this is turning out to be an NFL-caliber injury report today.

--The Most Influential Kurt Elling: "Kurt Elling is the most influential jazz vocalist of our time." --Nate Chinen. More on Chinen's blog.

--Maria Schneider On JazzSet: The concert that I wrote about here was on JazzSet last week. Have a listen.

--Indo-Jazz Fusion In India: There's a long history of South Asian music in American jazz, currently being updated by a new generation of musicians (Rudresh Mahanthappa, Dan Weiss, Rez Abbasi, Sunny Jain, Fareed Haque, Vijay Iyer, and so forth). But this is in Chandigarh. I wonder if anyone can tell me anything about the history of jazz on the Indian subcontinent?

RIP Art D'Lugoff, owner of the Village Gate.

--Salsa Vs. Latin Jazz: One of Art D'Lugoff's most well-known productions at the Village Gate was the Salsa Meets Jazz series. In an odd coincidence, earlier this week Chip Boaz wrote about the fine line between salsa and Latin jazz. In his characterization, salsa enjoys a predominantly Afro-Cuban heritage geared toward dancing and commercial appeal, while Latin jazz is oriented more toward risky personal expression and a diverse set of influences from traditional jazz to pan-Latin folkloric musics. Of course, a series like Salsa Meets Jazz is designed to entertain by blurring those lines, but Boaz still sees a value in the separate classification. Do you? (Related: a 2008 New York Times piece on D'Lugoff returning to Le Poisson Rouge, the club which now occupies the Village Gate's old space, to guest curate a new Salsa Meets Jazz series.)

--Words, Words, Words: Peter Hum writes on some slippery words abused in jazz writing. As anyone who has ever written about this music before knows, it's difficult to avoid slipping into cliches and potentially-loaded terms for the sake of convenience. (Hum follows up with the point that one can't just write "dude was killin' last night!" and expect that to be meaningful.) Some usual suspects are discussed here: "modern," "voice," "risky," "accessible," etc. Since I could go on about this at length, I'll stop myself at the term "avant-garde." Salim Washington has an interesting essay related to the idea of a permanent avant-garde, revolving around Charles Mingus.

--How To Get To Sesame Street: How to explain all the jazz on Sesame Street over its 40 years? Like, to the tune of Wynton and Branford, Tito Puente, George Benson, Herbie Hancock, Diana Krall, Ray Barretto and Cab Calloway? Perhaps it might be noted that the show has always been modeled after and filmed in New York City.

--Spinal Tap On Jazz: As David Brent Johnson notes, "I guess they've turned their backs on it since Jazz Odyssey."

In reading over yesterday's Billie Holiday discussion, I was reminded of these three photographs of Holiday and her dog, Mister. There's also, of course, this.

Perhaps I was thinking about these shots in light of two Exclusive First Listens we've had up at NPR Music recently: one featuring the new effort from Nellie McKay, the other -- available now -- featuring Norah Jones' The Fall. Ahem:

How much is that doggie in that album cover? (courtesy of Blue Note and Verve Records)

McKay and Jones both like jazz, work with traditionally jazz-oriented record labels and are frequently described as having something about them that is jazz-inflected -- something "jazzy." (I've got nothing against their music, I might add.) They're also both into large canines, apparently.

From a jazz fan's perspective, you could look at their successes in a glass half-empty sort of way. Why is it that these singers, who draw on some sonic tropes associated with jazz, are significantly more successful than their contemporaries who more completely embrace jazz ideas?

But you could also look at McKay and Jones as a good portent for jazz. In 2009, where jazz occupies some 1-3% of U.S. record sales, evoking jazz -- or even just being labeled "jazzy" -- can still help win you widespread success.

Food for thought -- or are we barking up the wrong tree?

If Billie Holiday doesn't get chosen for 50 Great Voices, at least one blogger won't be happy. (William Gottlieb/Redferns)

My boss readily admits that she doesn't know a whole lot about jazz. But she lets me write all this nonsense on the Internet, so I'm not complaining. And at least she's willing to learn. So every week -- or at least as often as possible -- she and I get together to listen to and Instant Message about a different great jazz song.

We at NPR Music recently launched a project we're calling 50 Great Voices, and I've been thinking about which jazz singers I'd put in that list. The last Listening Party we had spotlighted a great vocalist in Ella Fitzgerald; this week, I thought I might feature another pantheon-level talent in Billie Holiday. Specifically, I wanted to feature one of the many great recordings she made with musical soulmate Lester Young.

"Without Your Love," from Billie Holiday, Lady Day: The Master Takes And Singles (Columbia/Legacy). Billie Holiday, vocals; Buck Clayton, trumpet; Lester Young, tenor saxophone; Edmond Hall, clarinet; James Sherman, piano; Freddie Green, guitar; Walter Page, bass; Jo Jones, drums. New York, N.Y.: Jun. 15, 1937.

Purchase: Amazon.com / Amazon MP3 / iTunes

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Boss Lady: Another singer!

me: And a voice I'm sure you recognize too.

Boss Lady: Well, her voice sounds very familiar, and I happened to see her name on the CD jacket...

me: Well, right. Billie Holiday, ladies and gentlemen.
But I want to start this at the very beginning. What's the first thing you hear?

me: What happens to that horn when Billie starts singing? That tenor saxophone.

Boss Lady: It seems to be providing a running commentary on the melody as it flows by. She sings a phrase, then the sax riffs off of it a bit. Kind of a duet, but the sax is letting the singer have center stage.
The sax has a kind of wistful, mournful sound...

me: Whoever it is is a very active accompanist, right? Always adding to the vocals, but never stepping over them.
Notice that after the piano solo and trumpet solo, he's back again, playing backup to Billie.

Boss Lady: Should I be surprised? I mean, she IS the main event.

me: No, not really. It's just that we've encountered this guy before.

Boss Lady: oh no

me: The very first of these listening parties, in fact -- he was a lot bolder and out in front.
His name is Lester Young, and though he could be full of energy and bounce and life, he was a magnificent accompanist too.

Boss Lady: Oh now I remember!
I can see how having Lester Young there makes it easier for her to sing long notes and keep the music moving forward.

me: Sure. That melding of textures is just so seamless -- he with the most tasteful of statements, she with the languid, held phrasing.
His recordings with Billie Holiday are really showcases for how to back up a singer.

Boss Lady: It's funny, her vibrato is sometimes very similar to the vibrato on the sax

me: There's a lot in common about Lester Young and Billie Holiday -- they were responsible for each others nicknames, by the way. "Pres" and "Lady Day."

Boss Lady: Really? How did that happen?

me: Billie Holiday sang for the Count Basie band for some time, which Lester was a star in. That, and the record producer here knew of both talents, and thought to bring Lester into several recording sessions of Billie's. So they were friends for a long time.
But anyway, as you said: she is the main event.
What of it? How do you characterize her voice?

Boss Lady: I'm always surprised by the timbre of her voice.

me: How so?

Boss Lady: You could describe it in ways that would seem unflattering, but are actually part of her charm. For instance, she sounds kind of nasal and tight to me when she's up high, but it also pierces and is full of emotion.

me: It's totally her own, right? A very jazz idea, having your own "sound" -- and perhaps even with physical limitations, but you always work around those.
Miles wasn't as fast a trumpeter as Dizzy; Duke Ellington wasn't as good at piano as Art Tatum. That just meant they had to figure out something different to do -- and they did.
For instance, compare this to what we listened to last week. Is there any vocal improvising?

Boss Lady: Doesn't sound like it ...

me: Right, there's no scat singing. Lots of vocal embellishment to the melody, but not in the same way as Ella, right?

Boss Lady: What strikes me about this song, is that there's this persistent note that she sings, pretty high ... it sounds like a complaint! The whole song hangs on that note that she sings over and over again. When she's on that note, her voice is very piercing and thin, but there's no vibrato on it.
The words on that note are "Without Your Love..." Do you hear what I'm talking about?

me: I do. That note speaks volumes, I think.

Boss Lady: Do tell.

me: Well, only in what you make of it. Some people hear pain, abuse, suffering in her voice. Later in her life, with her biography in mind, that's a possible interpretation.

Boss Lady: So you could say she's meeting the pain very directly, and that's one of the things that makes her so compelling.

me: Yea, sure. But this whole suffering artist thing, while relevant, is overplayed.
I only know that she takes what was probably a pretty generic arrangement of a popular song and stylizes it heavily.

Boss Lady: Right, but her singing is not about being silky smooth. I'm impressed by how honest she sounds. How what she sings seems true.

me: Well, it's not as if she's not true to herself and how she feels like expressing the words.

Boss Lady: Well it's got to be more than that. A lot of people are true to themselves but they're not as good at making other people believe what they're saying.

me: I don't know the mystery of what makes some great voices more compelling than others. I just know that what she does here works for me, and has for so many other people.
What you're wondering seems like the science question of How vs. Why.
Science answers How. Why is a bigger question, much more mysterious.
If you asked me How Billie Holiday is compelling, I'd tell you that it's some blend of phrasing, certain overtones, rock-solid accompanists and some hazily understood mythology.
She's forcing the issue: with that high note you mentioned, and with all her creative use of time -- it seems like the tempo is slower for her than everyone else.

Boss Lady: That's an interesting way to put it ... she packs more into each moment than most? It's true that almost no moment seems tossed off or thrown away.

me: Technically, she's starting earlier, holding longer and ending later than the original melody calls for. One phrase thus seems to flow into the next.
Why that gets us? Why she hits us as ringing so true? Good question.

Boss Lady: Well, some day maybe you'll aspire to answer life's mysteries!

me: Doubt it.