Jazz is a high-order musical language that has developed by incorporating various other musical languages. Blues and classical techniques are fused in an ongoing exploration of sonic vocabularies. It is a complex, demanding musical discipline that requires time and effort. Jazz began as an American language because it arose from the experience of black Americans in the formation of our culture. Having survived slavery and all the rest of it, the African Americans developed identities unique in the world. These musicians have their roots in southern blues, gospel and church music. When combined with virtuoso classical techniques, The music that emerges is emotional, loose, given to hyperbole both dark and funny. The Blues is like the bottom layer of a pyramid: everything else is built on top of this idiom. Jazz maintains the cries of both pleasure and suffering that arrived on the guitar strings of early blues musicians. The singing voice has some gravel in it: slightly hoarse and redolent of something more ancient, something like voodoo magic. In jazz it is the Mysterious that beckons so powerfully. It is a musical world of spells and trances, of going ever farther “out” but never straying from its roots.
Jazz has spread across the world. Go anywhere: go to Japan. you’ll find jazz. Go to Europe, go to Thailand, go to California. Jazz is everywhere you go.
To go back to the original question: what is a jazz musician? It is a musician dedicated to long hours of practice and study. Jazz is difficult to master. It requires intellectual exertion and physical strength. At the heart of all this mighty effort is the thing that keeps jazz active: love. Ask anyone involved in jazz music and you’ll find this passionate heart beating with every breath. We love jazz as passionately as we love anything at all. We are a lot like priests of a universal religion.
I was just a child when I was first embraced by jazz. I was twelve and playing trumpet when I acquired two LPs. I had The Birth Of The Cool, by Miles Davis, and Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers. Blakey’s drums are signature: chotta chotta boom boom, and the oceanic wash of his color cymbal as he holds the time in his limbs. What a band! Wayne Shorter, Lee Morgan, Jimmie Meritt, Wynton Kelly. Wow!
A musician who is devoted to jazz can expect a hard road. Jazz becomes commercially viable by way of dilution. The less “real” jazz is in it, the more money it makes. This requires wrenching choices in the lives of musicians.
Not everyone is Stan Getz. He got lucky and…he was white. He landed a hit tune, a bossa nova, and he made a ton of money. But Getz was a very fine jazz player. Getz played his jazz at all of his gigs, pausing only to render his hit Brazilian tune for the audience. One could say that “he sold out but gave all his profits to jazz.” No harm for Stan Getz: only respect.
The only thing easy about jazz is the word “play”. That’s what jazz is. A game to be played, a musical puzzle that needs resolution, figuring out how it works, why it works and when it works. Ask any jazz player how much fun it is to play with one’s peers. It is FUN! Nothing beats playing with others whose abilities are matched to one’s own. Or better, yet, playing with more advanced musicians in order to learn from mentors. Jazz is love, fun, blues, bossa, soulful, adventurous, mystical and profound.
About Arthur Rosch
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award.
Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
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In my post,It’s All in the Packaging, I interview cover designer, Dawn Leslie Mullan and I issued a plea for your help and support as the cover art for Delilah made it to the second round in a book cover contest on Facebook. Unfortunately, we didn’t make it into round three, but I want to thank all those who took the time and went to the effort to vote. Delilah has a great cover that fits her story, and I appreciate everyone who jumped in a tried to help us win. I also want to thank DL Mullan for providing such a great cover and Robin Conley for nominating it.
Although I have participated in release parties, it was my first experience with an event like this on social media, so I learned a lot from the experience. I think there are several reasons why we didn’t make it to round three. The promoters of the event were romance authors, and many of the covers we were up against were romance covers, especially the ones which got the most votes, which leads me to believe romance readers were the majority of the audience attending this event, so I considered it lucky that I was able to get the votes I did. Again, all those that voted, whether from my previous blog post, or from my massive marketing campaign to gain votes, you guys are great, and greatly appreciated.
I also learned what not to do when hosting an event like this. The event promoters laid out a set of rules for voting, which had participants clicking and liking various pages, and although the rules were laid out, it seems several of the participants failed to do so, because in later rounds, new “Rules” posts were put up, saying those who failed to follow each step would not be counted. Also, at the end of round two, they announced that hearts did not count as votes, only ‘likes’, but this was not stated at the beginning, so anyone who had someone who loved their cover enough to give it a heart was disqualified.
I think these events should be made as easy as possible to participate in. Think about it. We’re asking people to take time out to go to a page and vote, or play silly games to win prizes in the case of release parties. The games should be fun, or at least funny. The prizes should be something that will be viewed to have some value. And voting should be quick and easy, only taking a few minutes of their time. And for heavens sake, if someone does accept your invitation and attends, or votes for you, show some appreciation and thank them. I know I do, and it keeps readers coming back for more.
I was happy that the cover for Delilah made it to round two, and disappointed that it didn’t go to round three. Maybe next time. Although, I am wondering how effective these social media events really are. A couple of authors I’ve talked said they’ve participated in release parties, but haven’t seen any real increase in sales from them. That could be partly because they are attended mostly by other authors, so we may be playing to the wrong audience there.
I’d be interested in hearing from other authors who participate in these events. I’d like to know how beneficial they really are. Do they bring in sales of your books? Or are they a waste of time? If you’d like to weigh in, leave a comment here, or contact me at kayebooth(at)yahoo(dot)com.
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When this blog was on the Today.com site, as I’ve mentioned before, I published a poem at the end of every post. In “Poetry Worth Noting” I reposted two poems written by others that I had posted on the old blog site, which received several views, making me think that perhaps the poetry is something that my readers might have an interest in. So, in this post, I will publish two of my own poems and tell you a little about the stories behind them. Please leave comments to let me know if this is something that you would like to see more of here, on Writing to be Read.
The first is called Voices and it really has a lot to do with the point where I really began to feel like a writer. I was preparing for the 2008 Fremont County Writers’ and Artists’ Fair. I had a table at the fair, but I had no book to sell, so I was putting each of my poems on an illustrated background for display. While looking for a suitable background for this particular poem, I discovered a painting, by artist Mitch Barrett, of the same name. I contacted the artist and obtain copyright permission to use his painting as the background for my poem. This was all very exciting for me for several reasons. First, the painting fit absolutely perfect with the content of the poem, with a central head, surrounded by faces that all seemed to be screaming at him. Second, this was the first time that I had every participated in any type of writing function, and I was beginning to feel like a “real” writer. And third, Mitch Barrett lives in England, and that is where he called me from. I was thrilled that this man would go out of his way to make an international call to me and grant me permission to use his work!
Voices
Is what I hear voices from above?
Or are they the voices of foolish love?
Sometimes they tell me to open my eyes,
And not believe your blatant lies.
Sometimes they tell me to forgive all.
At times they warn that I’m about to fall.
Sometimes they whisper, so I can barely hear.
Other times, they are so near
That it sounds as if they’re shouting in my head.
Sometimes they caution; I could end up dead.
They tell me I’m heading for dangerous ground,
Or tell me I shouldn’t have you around.
Sometimes they say I’m headed straight for the top.
Other times, they scream that I must stop.
They urge me to go faster,
Then they say slow way down.
They seem to speak most
When there’s no one around.
They tell me to do what I feel is right,
But then they say that it’s not worth the fight.
When I feel that my heart is shattered glass,
They say that I’d better get off my ass.
They that I might just think for a bit,
But they never allow me to give up or quit.
I listen, sometimes long into the night,
And they always say that I must do what is right.
They push me one way, then pull another.
Sometimes they sound just like my mother.
Often, I wonder if they’re from my past.
Sometimes, I long for silence at last.
Is what I hear voices from above?
Or are they the voices of foolish love?
Background Painting by Mitch Barrett, Poetry by Kaye Lynne Booth
The second poem that I would like to include here, came about because of Voices and that first initial contact with Mitch Barrett. Not long after the fair, Mitch contacted me about some paintings he was working on that he wanted to display with poetry, and he asked me to see what I could come up with to go with them. He explained what he was trying to do in the painting and sent me sketches of what the intended works would look like. This past summer, his painting, Intimacy went on display at the Kaleidoscope Gallery at Battle Sea Park, in London, featuring my poem, Intimacy and the Harlequin Dance. Just recently, the painting sold, which thrilled me to no end. It now has a home in Milan, I am told. It is a great painting, with my poetry, and there has been interest expressed by gallery owners of exhibiting more artwork/poetry combinations, so I may be collaborating with this talented artist again in the future.
Intimacy and the Harlequin Dance
By Kaye Lynne Booth
We dance through the masquerade of life
Disguised to fit the music
Of so many different melodies
That at times, we forget which tune
Holds the heartstrings of who we really are.
Then one day, we find the perfect dance partner,
But to attain the perfect rhythm
We must open ourselves up and reveal our souls.
Intimacy requires that we relinquish the mask
To expose the genuine self that lies beneath.
After all the years of dancing to false tunes
Will we be able to keep time
To the genuine dance and the original rhyme?
Or shall we don the mask once more and continue to
Keep time to the false melody of the Harlequin dance?
Painting by Mitch Barrett, Poetry by Kaye Lynne Booth