From Texas comes the same old myth of origins about New Orleans
By Kevin Belford For the St. Louis American
There’s some talk going round about American jazz and blues.
The old discussion is about how New Orleans and the Mississippi River Delta invented the music and how it migrated up the river so non-Southern musicians could imitate it after hearing a Southerner play it.
That kind of talk belies the true nature of cultural evolution and, as with many historical generalizations, it contains a presumptive flaw. The emergence of jazz and blues or any creativity cannot be attributed solely to any single city or region. Instead, our music grew out of the collective experiences of Americans from a variety of backgrounds living throughout the nation.
But this is new thinking and it doesn’t sit well with some folk. Myths, once established, are hard things to shatter.
Kansas City has tried for years to prove its worth to jazz history and has done a pretty good job of it. There are more people talking this new talk, but St. Louis is shy to join the fray and prove its significance to jazz and blues. Perhaps if lesser players like Texas, Iowa or Oklahoma establish themselves and strike it rich, then we’ll look into our own, stronger claims.
Indeed, the great but not-so-jazzy state of Texas has come out with a book that explores its own history of jazz – Dave Oliphant as followed up his first book, Texas Jazz, with Jazz Mavericks of the Lone Star State.
Texas is certainly one of the many places that deserve some creative credit for influencing the music. The border state has many historical influences, almost as many as old St. Louis. Down there the Tejana, native American, German, Czech and nearby French Cajun fiddles and accordions, along with African-American traditions, are the relevant cultural factors.
So the maverick author in his 10-gallon hat full of new ideas is gonna call out the music establishment and give ‘em an ear full of proof that his state deserves a share of credit for the birth of jazz and blues. St. Louis will certainly benefit once the smoke clears after this shootout.
In the classic generalization, Texans are proud of their unique individualism, and jazz is the unconventional, mind-altering, rebellious avant-garde artform, so this book is surely the high-noon showdown response to the stuffy eggheads and unenlightened of music history.
Big guns strapped to his hip, extra ammo of research across his chest and backed up by quotes from sharp-shooting scholar Gunther Schuller, the Texan enters the American musicology saloon. The room hushes to hear what the renegade has to say about his territory.
Instead of a couple of shots of rebellion into the sawdust floor or an authority-shattering round into the mirror behind the bar, the author shyly expresses surprise that musicians of diverse ethnicity, creeds and economic backgrounds have made good music, despite never having endured servitude, displacement or ostracism.
OK, he’s starting off slow. Texans are like that, too. The creak of a chair leg is the only sound as the patrons lean forward to hear what the big man will say next. The gunslinger drawls; “By 1918 black musicians from New Orleans had begun to migrate west and north, many ending up in Texas.”
What? None of the anticipated heresy, no proof of unique Texan creative invention. The tinhorn lazily pinpoints direct contact between Texas musicians and famous jazz artists in a traditional homage to the great New Orleans and admission of influence from the mythical source of all that is jazz lore.
Texas pride and arrogance dictate that anything from the Lone Star State is bigger and better than anything else from anywhere else, but Texan author and jazz scholar Oliphant seems downright humble when claiming his state’s place in jazz history.
Where does that leave us? St. Louis sits back in its chair, opens a book of essays about steamboat jazz and Delta guitar players, and the sun sets again – until we wake up to the truth and value of our own heritage.