Max Roach

Max Roach died a few weeks ago. He was one of those human beings who seemed to be an elemental force of nature and it's hard to believe that such a force is quenched. Of course his music is still around, caught on tape, frozen in amber. Not all of the life of it is preserved in the electronic amber but enough so you can fill in what's missing. You all know he was a drummer in the bebop era of jazz, famous for his polyrhythmic capabilities. I made a little trip to youtube because while I have some of his recordings I had never known what he looked like. Then, running out of the small supply of his videos I started searching through the ranks of some of the famous jazz drummers of past decades. Chick Webb, Cozy Cole, Jo Jones, Dave Tough, Buddy Rich and a fantastic film of Barrett Deems. I don't even know who Barrett Deems played with but he was phenomenal. Feeling too confined by the limitations of his drum set, in this clip he migrates from the bandstand to the club floor and finds a chair to beat on. Then, just for comparison sake I took a look at some rock drummers. But there is no comparison.
There was a koto player I saw and heard at Vancouver's long defunct Classical Joint in Gastown. Japanese music is an acquired taste for westerners and I acquired it during my two year stint in Yokosuka. Takemitsu is one of the few modern composers I like. Abstraction comes naturally to zen conditioned Japanese and his music reminds me a lot of haiku. Never liked saki or sushi, never learned to use chopsticks, but I like Japanese music and poetry. Music has the advantage of not requiring knowledge of the spoken language of the composer. Listening to that koto player I realized what was unique about Japanese music. I don't know anything about scales and harmony so I have nothing to say about that, except that the 'frets' on a koto are adjustable according to the scales and harmonics the performer wants to use. What really struck me was that the rhythm of her music was implied rather than stated openly. This has the effect of releasing the musical phrase from the confinement of a strictly observed beat. This was a very emphatic impression. Haiku is like that, too. Most of the meaning of a haiku is not in the words used in the poem. The words on the page are meant to stimulate the mind so that other, deeper, meanings are sensed. In the koto song the rhythm is not stated overtly so the listener must supply his own rhythm, which may be more subtle and meaningful than even the finest musician can express. Or at least those were the thoughts I had when I came away from that lady's performance.
When thought of this way western music, even the music of the master composers seems crude. Not really. The great composers incorporated rhythm into the structure of the musical line. They knew what they were doing. And they were aware of the confinement problem, if the story is true of Wagner's putting down a famous conductor by calling him a Bavarian timebeater. Mediocre musicians pay excessive attention to timekeeping, as all good conductors know. It's the hobgoblin of little minds.
One of the reasons Negro music in America became so popular, I think, is that it found a way of keeping a strong rhythm while still leaving room for phrasing. Synchopation they call it, and it's what they mean when they say "it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing." I think it's just as important for jazz development as the blues -inspired bending of notes. All those influences evolved together in the early twentieth century until it reached an apogee in the bebop era. But by then it had become too arty and self indulgent to speak to an ordinary audience. Myself, I like the jazz from the swing era the best, before it got too proud to play for dancing teenagers.
Still, here I am listening to Sonny Rollins' quirky take on "The last time I saw Paris" -I'm not sure who's doing the drums but it might be Max Roach- and loving it.