Reconsidering Ken Burns “Jazz”

In a classic example of how time can inevitably alter one’s prior impressions, last month I was down in New Orleans working on a piece that will arrive in JazzTimes magazine’s forthcoming annual jazz education issue, on the annual Louis Armstrong Jazz Camp. On a couple of occasions during that week I noticed the students viewing an episode of Ken Burns’ controversial “Jazz” documentary series. Spurred by that viewing I knew I needed to see the series again, at my leisure and sans the court of public (jazz) opinion, remembering the firestorm of controversy that Y-2K series generated. In fact I had not seen the series since its original PBS airing, so 11 years later as Bird once said “Now’s the Time”.

Quickly finding a gently used DVD box set of the Burns series on, I found myself riveted to the screen and eager for each succeeding episode in the 10-disc set. And take note of how the series was just denoted in the last sentence – as “the Burns series.” That is precisely the shade of glasses one must view this series through, as Ken Burns and his assembled cohorts take on the jazz lineage – and NOT as a definitive survey of the history of jazz. I’m afraid that is the mistake a lot of the series’ critics tended to make, as though Ken Burns’ “Jazz” ever set out to be definitive in any way. There was a sense of dismay and outright betrayal in much of the earliest criticism, as though the series arrived far short of its considerable expectation; that’s true in some aspects, but seeing the series after this passage of time – sans expectations – is rewarding. On second blush, the series provides a beautiful portrayal of the jazz lineage, a profile of sorts to be sure… but by no means a straight history of the form. This is how Burns and co. saw the development of jazz, and not as some be-all-end-all jazz history compendium.

Admittedly after viewing all ten discs I still felt the latter half of the 20th century in jazz was severely short-changed, but again this was “Ken Burns Jazz” and not the History of Jazz in 20 Hours as some would have had it. And this revisionist viewpoint is not to say the series is without flaws, far from it. But taken as a whole for what it was, there has been no better pure television series on jazz music.

I found myself enthralled by the way Burns & co. (check the credits, a rather prodigious team actually assembled this thing (including quite auspiciously an old friend I’ve lost touch with, Natalie Bullock-Brown (proud of you ‘sis!) – not to mention the numerous talking heads called upon for their various expertise throughout the series) sketched the lives of those artists they selected as the most significant contributors, and how they did so in segments which dissolved into portraits of the times those gentlemen and ladies lived in, then later looped back in succeeding episodes for updates on where they were in the continuum. Particularly effective were the treatments in this regard of Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, and Benny Goodman; though by turns I thought Count Basie was a bit shortchanged in this regard – not to mention Ornette Coleman, but we’ll get to that shortcoming. These threads between masters and episodes is masterfully woven.

It was remarkable watching the extensive swing era segments and thinking how so much of the depression as painted so vividly by the series, actually reflected some of the more depressing aspects of world life in what is euphemistically referred to today as a “recession,” as though we dare not label ourselves as living in a dreaded D word. I also found myself wondering how much dance enthusiasts must have been enraptured at the marvelous dance footage Burns & co. unearthed. (Certain episodes, particularly those dealing with the Savoy Ballroom and featuring commentary by the hoofers Norma Miller and Frankie Manning, should be required viewing for the Dancing With the Stars crowd.) The copious use of period still photos is even more striking in succeeding viewings. I wondered how many folks saw those episodes and recognized faces in the crowd (as in: ‘oh man look, that’s my grandmother/father as a young man/woman…’!!).

As for the talking heads, yes some critics were originally quite correct in citing the omnipresence of certain “experts,” but I must say I was warmed every time someone like my friend and ancestor Jackie McLean appears onscreen dropping science. I also found myself listening more intently to such graceful contributors as the understated writer Margo Jefferson, whose astute observations were always so spot-on and leavened with a twinkle in her eye. Hearing Gerald Early reflect back on how black folks of the boomer (my) generation as young people responded (deeply mistaken) to Pops as some sorta skinnin’ & grinnin’ minstrel (boy were we off-key there!) is once again very telling, and a classic example of how revisionist history is often very rewarding. I for one eventually straightened out and came to the realization that Louis Armstrong is one of the monumental figures in American history, let alone American music history! Burns’ inclusion of such key and telling anecdotes, initial weaknesses and admissions is one of the series’ great strengths. Also growing in value are such unforgettable chestnuts s as Jon Hendricks‘ recounting his initial wartime encounter with “Salt Peanuts”, that of someone who had been away fighting a war on foreign soil, clueless to advancements in the music until a chance encounter at sea with Dizzy’s recorded mastery on the way home from the fighting. On the revelation side, where on earth did Burns & co. unearth such rare footage as Pops’ playful, beret-wearing put-down of Dizzy at the Hollywood Bowl? Hadn’t seen that one before… or since!

Yes, Ken Burns “Jazz” was guilty of speed reading the advancements in the music represented by the latter half of the 20th century, and he whiffed on such a seminal modernist as Ornette Coleman, who surely deserved a broader portrait. So let’s hope someone or some crew adept on the contemporary side will more fully paint that picture. Until then, Ken Burns “Jazz” indeed stands as a monument of a jazz portrait.

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5 Responses to Reconsidering Ken Burns “Jazz”

  1. Natalie Bullock Brown says:

    Wow, Willard. It’s incredible to read your review of the JAZZ series a decade after it aired, and what seems like a lifetime after I worked on it (you were so kind to make specific mention of me as a part of Ken’s “co.” lol. Thank you!) If you only knew the debates and ruffled feathers that abounded just in the crew of JAZZ because one musician got more onscreen time than another, or whatever the case – production of the series was an dizzyingly emotional time. And just as happened when I found my formerly disdainful self falling in love with Louis Armstrong early on in production, tears came to my eyes tonight as I relived the making of JAZZ through your kind, genuine telling of your recent experience with the series. I’m gratified to know that there are a t least a few people in jazz, especially ones I so respect like you, who appreciate the work my colleagues and I put into JAZZ. You’re right – the series is by no means meant to be definitive. But I can tell you one thing fo’ sho’: that thing was made with much love. 🙂

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  3. Craig Taylor says:

    It is remarkable that your reconsideration of Ken Burns’ “Jazz” both fails to mention the heavy-handed influence of the cultural reactionary Wynton Marsalis and fails to contextualize the attendant issues – the nature and evolution of the music, the post 1959 developments, the contributions of Ornette Coleman and others – surrounding the series. Contrary to what you write, the passage of time neither diminishes the importance of those issues nor palliates Burns’ seriously flawed conception of the music.

    • Craig, I’m afraid your reading of what I’ve said is cursory – speed-reading? – at best. I did indeed note the post-1959 disparities, I did indeed note the over-bearance of some of the commentators. However unlike some I choose not to engage in personalized bashing of specific individuals. I stand by what I’ve written; perhaps its time for you to develop your own blog or webzine so that you can air some of your own provocative commentaries.
      Willard Jenkins

  4. Amy says:

    Thank you for the post, and thank you, Natalie!

    I’m just watching the series for the first time now. I’m 50 and have been listening to all this music for a long time — my mother used to play ragtime records (I still have her Heliotrope Bouquet album), I heard Benny Goodman as a child, and I remember hearing Miles play a year or so before he died, and hearing Keith Jarrett all the way in Brussels and discovering that the trip was crazy since we were from the same hometown, and hearing Willie Pickens play for a mutual friend who’d died, shortly before his own death — but when you’re younger, and your family are not musicians, you hear it as a ragbag, you know?
    Different parts of my life are marked by different discoveries in this music.

    I’ve been watching this series like I needed it, and discovering how much of my own idiom, spoken and written, comes from this music. Many of the stories are new to me. I am aware that this is one take on a story that can’t possibly be told in 20 hours, but I’m so glad that people made this mighty effort, and said look, this comes from this, and this affected this, and he knew him, and my goodness look at all the no women well that’s no surprise, now is it, and so on. I’m glad it’s told by way of stories, too.

    I was curious to see how people who knew about the music would have regarded it. I’m not surprised that there are critics like Craig, and frankly I’m going to shrug at Craig while accepting that there are points he may well have. Wynton Marsalis also narrated the audioguide for a Mondrian show at the Museum of Modern Art in the 1990s, and I hardly ever listen to those, but something told me to that day and I’m so glad I did, because he opened up that man’s work to me. But my aim in seeing what people thought was to see whether it was all a lot of PBS jive, because I’m aware when I watch Ken Burns series that I’m watching the Will and Ariel Durant of our time, and the answer looks like no. It’s just limited, partial, like any story. I have no argument with that.

    I’m sure I’ll watch it again many times.

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