Prez

Eric Dolphy was so outside he had a cot set up out there and probably a magazine rack, too. I’m listening to Eric Dolphy and Booker Little’s “Ode to Charlie Parker” and meditating on the line of tradition that exists with jazz music. In the other arts, appropriation is not always made with reverence or respect for those who came before.

One of the admirable qualities of jazz music and musicians is that homage is usually paid where it’s due, whether in the middle of a solo as a musical aside, via song titles, or else in its most malleable form—its spirit. Most jazz music is a continuation. My meaning doesn’t extend to mimicry, however. Copping someone else’s style in jazz is the cardinal sin. Musical asides in the midst of a solo can serve to acknowledge many things. Respect would be the first reason for a soloist to break into a few recognizable bars of someone else’s tune, but soloists also name-check other musicians in the middle of a solo for comic effect or as an inside joke. Sometimes a few bars of someone else’s solo inserted in a strategic way also provides a counterpoint to the ingenuity and skill being demonstrated. When a soloist like Dolphy was on the stand, however, he would rarely make an acknowledgment to another player within a song. He was far too original to spend even a moment walking in another man’s shoes.

Most callouts made by jazz soloists are the realm of the bluesy crowd-pleaser, though. Avant-gardists would find it outré. The free-flights of Dolphy, Ornette Coleman, John Coltrane, and Marion Brown wouldn’t have been possible without the likes of Lester Young and Coleman Hawkins.