Down With Bebop

[JRJ 4.
2 (2010) 93-94]
doi:10.1558/jazz.v4i2.93
(print) ISSN 1753-8637

(online) ISSN 1753-8645
Editorial: The other jazz

Tony Whyton and Catherine Tackley
In no ones mind have the musics ties to its country of origin been
severed, yet the historical record proves that it has for some time had
global significance Jazz exists in our collective imagination as both
a national and postnational music, but is studied almost exclusively in
the former incarnation.1
This special issue of the Jazz Research Journal, The Other Jazz, was
developed from a session at the Jazz and Race, Past and Present conference held at The Open University, Milton Keynes, UK in November 2010 as
part of the Arts and Humanities Research Council funded project What is
Black British Jazz? Following the conference, several authors were invited
to develop ideas and submit articles for peer-review. For this issue, we are
delighted to feature studies of jazz from three different parts of the world:
Estonia, India and Malaysia.
Over the course of the last century, jazz has been adopted, absorbed,
rejected and transformed within different national settings. Histories of
jazz around the globe offer complex, and at times contradictory, narratives that are shaped by social and political circumstances, urbanization
and cultural change, and the workings of different national ideologies. The
three contributions to this issue provide insights into jazz scenes within
radically different cultural settings and historical circumstances. And yet,
these contributions are united in their desire to examine the role that jazz
performs in relation to dominant social and political orders. Whether it
is the Soviet-controlled Estonia of 1948, India under colonial rule, or the
changing nature of the contemporary Islamic Malaysian state, jazz offers
itself as a fascinating vehicle for understanding the politics of national
cultures and the shifting boundaries of Otherness.
Heli Reimanns opening article presents a close reading of material from
a unique sourcean almanac containing articles written by members of
the Estonian jazz group Swing Clubto examine approaches to jazz in
Estonia under the Soviet regime which began to dominate cultural life from
1948. Her analysis exposes the nature of local responses to jazz as Ameri
1. E. Taylor Atkins, Jazz Planet (Jackson: University of Mississippi Press, 2003), xiii.
Equinox Publishing Ltd 2012, Unit S3, Kelham House, 3 Lancaster Street, Sheffield, S3 8AF.
94
Jazz Research Journal
can music, albeit mediated by the pervasive influence of Soviet values on

both discourse and music-making, which particularly privileged swing over
bebop. Reimanns study is followed by Stephane Dorins Jazz and race
in colonial India: The role of Anglo-Indian musicians in the diffusion of jazz
in Calcutta, an article that explores the way in which jazz fed into the construction and redefinition of racial categories in colonial India. Dorins work
discusses Anglo-Indians as cultural mediators who helped to place jazz
within the national culture and touches on the paradoxes of globalization,
where the popularity of jazz becomes bound up simultaneously with the
Americanization of culture, on the one hand, and a developing sense of a
national sound (albeit under colonial rule), on the other. Finally, Gisa Jhnichens article Jazz in Kuala Lumpar explores the various ways in which
Malaysian jazz musicians have gone beyond replicating American jazz
models towards creating forms of local jazz which draw on traditional music
and instruments, as well as more modern cultural forms, such as karaoke.
This local jazz also reflects differing ideas about national identity from the
official One Malaysia to deliberate incorporation of musical characteristics
from across the diverse spectrum of identities in the community.
Taylor Atkins words that open this issue offer a reminder of the need
to resist American exceptionalist readings of jazz history and, instead, to
develop fresh insights into the global spread of jazz and the way in which
the music functions as both a national and transnational phenomenon.
While the narratives included in this issue clearly acknowledge particular
aspects of the global impact of African American music, they also provide
tangible accounts of diverse local contributions and the politics of place in
shaping different understandings of jazz.
Equinox Publishing Ltd 2012.
[JRJ 4.2 (2010) 95-121]

doi:10.1558/jazz.v4i2.95

Down with bebopviva swing!:

Swing Club and the meaning of jazz in late 1940s
Estonia
Heli Reimann1
University of Helsinki, PL 35 00014, University of Helsinki, Finland
heli.reimann@helsinki.fi
Abstract
The study focuses on one particular year in Estonian jazz history1948. This year
marked the start of the pivotal period in Estonian cultural historythe beginning of the
most intense ideological pressure in the sequence of the tightening the screws, as it
was referred to metaphorically. This year began a period of the lowest political tolerance jazz has ever experienced in its entire Soviet Estonian history. This study addresses
the following questions with particular reference to the Estonian jazz group Swing Club:
How was the socio-political turmoil reflected in Estonian jazz life? How did the musicians
attune their musical weltanschauung to the creative space provided by this subversive
historical moment? How did Estonian jazz musicians realize their creative potential in the
conditions of this limited creative freedom?
Keywords: jazz; jazz group; late 1940s; Soviet Estonia; Swing Club
Naissoos top quartet is playing here!
Siin mngib Naissoo esindus-kvartett!
Is it some serenade or gavotte?
Kas mingit serenaadi vi gavotti?
No, more just Gillespie-like hot,
Ei, rohkem just gillepielikku hotti,
Cultivation that is only a delusion
Soliidsus kus on ainult meelepett
[]
Bebop is crap. Thats a fact.
On bebop snnik. Fakt.
But it doesnt soil.
Kuid ta ei mri
And this is already faddish trick.
Ja see on juba ultramoodne trikk.
Yet its just garbage and strange.

2
Bop as such isnt worth anything
Ent rmpsuks siiski jb ja imelik

Bop sellisena listust ei vri
1. Heli Reimann is a researcher and PhD fellow at the University of Helsinki where she
has taught courses on jazz research and European jazz history. She is presently working
on her doctoral theses titled Music from below and the ideologies from above: The
discourse of Estonian jazz from 1945 to 1952.
2. Almanac of Swing Club, p. 2.
96
These humorous verses on the opening page of the almanac of the Estonian jazz group Swing Club (also known as SC) introduces the discussions
on jazz as held by the musicians whose deep and passionate desire was
to be involved with music whose sounds, unfortunately, were not attuned
with the spirit of the era. The articles by members of the Swing Club, which
were drawn together into the almanac, represent the period from 1947 to
1950 when jazz, as one of the victims of ideological purges, was assaulted
violently and its devotees driven into silence for a while. Following the
relatively liberal political climate after World War II, these purges started in
1946 with the launch of the great Soviet cultural program zhdanovshcina,
named after the head of Soviet Unions cultural policy Andrei Zhdanov. In
the atmosphere of rising international tensions Zhdanov and his associates railed against every kind of foreign influence. Jazz, perceived as the
purest representative of Western values, was proclaimed by Zhdanov to
be hysterical and cacophonous, and consequently gained the status of a
non-tolerated form of music in the Soviet cultural landscape. The ultimate
prohibitionthe moment where jazz became an object of absolute non
grataarrived two years later. During the three-day meeting of Soviet musicians and composers in January 1948, Zhdanov condemned Muradelis
opera as an example of formalism.3 In fact, the operas stylistic features
were of secondary importance: in the circumstances of intensified attempts
by party authorities to keep the arts as ideological weapons under their
vigilant control, the attack against the opera was just another pretence to
arrange an ideological cleanout in the field of culture (Starr 1983). In such
political conditions jazz, because of its inappropriate connotations, became
one of the major targets of ideological attacks. As a result all references to
jazz, whether verbal or musical, were abruptly annihilated; the word jazz
was banned, jazz orchestras took on a new identity by renaming, and the
composers of lesser known jazz pieces of Western origin were rebaptized.
3. In Soviet semantics, formalism stands for formulism, that is, adherence to formulas, particularly formulas of modern music. Linear counterpoint, dissonant harmony,
syncopated rhythm, tricky orchestration, special instrumental effects, atonality and
the twelve-tone technique, were the specific formulas condemned as formalistic. The
desirable opposite of formalism was realist music, that is, music rooted in national
folklore, and characterized by harmonic euphony, classical orchestration in the manner
of the Russian academic school, spacious diatonicism, and steady non-syncopated
rhythm (Slonimsky 1950: 251).
The form of artistic expression which was found to be most conformable to Communist
ideology was Socialist Realism. It is not in the first place a musical style, or a method of
creating music, but a discourse on the condition of political correctness in music, the
primary function of which is not cognitive, but coercive (Chew and Bek 2004: 15).
Down with bebopviva swing!
97
The latter meant the replacement of the names of original Western authors
by the names of Soviet composers.
The gradual intensifying of ideological pressure from the central power
during the post-war years occurred in Estonia hand-in-hand with the process of Sovietization. The period from autumn 1944 to 1953 marks the validation of the Soviet regime in Estonian history where the Soviet political
authorities established their power bases and the ideological principles and
new rules of operation appropriate to the Soviet mentality.4 The crucial role
of ideology in this implementation was applied to cultural life. All the cultural
fieldsarts, film, theatre and literaturewere handled primarily as propaganda channels in reshaping and affecting peoples consciousness. Therefore, on the one hand, cultural institutions and creative intelligence played
an important role in society and were elevated to a position of great authority. On the other hand, Estonian culture faced the situation where a significant part of the established cultural traditions were suddenly declared to
be non-existent and, above all, creative freedom was minimized to the level
where personal creative initiative was almost completely stifled (Kreegipuu
2005). If the beginning of the tightening of ideological orthodoxy and control
was associated with the year 1946 then the period commencing 1948 marks
the intensification of ideological purges which led finally to the consolidation
of the new regime in Estonian territory. As noted by Kreegipuu (2005), the
peak of the most severe assaults arrived in 1949/1950, with the large-scale
repression of cultural elites and civilians in general. Jazz, as an established
part of Estonian culture,5 had no chance to remain a mere bystander in this
situation and it was pulled inevitably into a whirlwind of political and ideological struggles of the time. But how was this socio-political turmoil reflected in
Estonian jazz life? How did the musicians attune their musical weltanschauung to the creative space provided by this subversive historical moment?
How did Estonian jazz musicians realize their creative potential in the conditions of this limited creative freedom?
4. In Soviet history the period from 9 May 1945 to 5 March 1953 is called late
Stalinism.
5. The music was entrenched in Estonian cultural space in the mid-1920s as an
essential part of wider modern cultural processes and by 1940, when its sovereign
growth was cruelly interrupted by Soviet occupation, had developed to an internationally accepted professional level. During the period from 1925 to 1940 the jazz-orientated
music for dancing had firmly established its position in the repertoire of 110 jazz orchestras involving approximately 750 musicians. An important landmark of the pre-war period
in Estonian jazz history was the first jazz concert organized by Priit Vebel in the Estonian
Concert Hall in 1936 (Lauk 2008).
98
The focus of the study is mostly on one particular year in Estonian jazz
history1948. This year, as the previous historical overview highlighted,
marked a pivotal moment in Estonian cultural history, the beginning of the
most intense ideological pressure in the sequence of the tightening the
screws or turning off the taps as it was referred to metaphorically. The
year 1948 in particular, and the period from 19471950 in general, is one of
the best-recorded periods in the early history of Soviet Estonian jazz, due to
the preservation of the almanac of the Swing Club. This almanac gives us
an excellent insight into this politically and culturally disruptive period from
the perspective of musicians. The significance of the year is also outlined
by Valter Ojakr6 who marks 21 March 1948 as a symbolic signpost in
Estonian jazz history, the beginning of the so-called hidden-name period
(2008: 166). This rather dramatic suggestion rests on the fact that the date
marked the disappearance of the word jazz from the official name of the
Eesti Ringhlingu dssorkester (Estonian Radio Jazz Orchestra); the
politically incorrect word jazz was replaced and since that day the orchestra was identified as Eesti Raadio estraadiorkester (The Variety7 Orchestra
of Estonian Radio).
As a real laboratory of jazz Swing Club played an important role in local
jazz history but its significance stretched outside the Estonian borders. Starr
mentions in his book Red and Hot, for instance, that Swing Club became a
progenitor of many experimental collectives of the 1960s all over the Soviet
Union because of its musical experiments (1983: 232). The author does not
describe the essence of the experiments, but what he probably had in mind
was that the SC brought into Soviet jazz something that was considered
highly innovative this timenamely, the intonations of folk music.
The discussions in this study are organized around three main subject
matters. Following an introduction to the almanac the study discusses the
formation of the SC, and introduces musicians conceptions of bebop.
Finally, the social and musical meaning of jazz is examined. The investigation is mostly based on the articles from the chronicle written in 1948.
6. Estonian publicist and jazz historian whose radio broadcasts, television programs
and journalistic writings in a large number of journal and newspapers have introduced
jazz to listeners and formed the wider conceptions of jazz for Estonian audiences since
the end of the 1950s. Ojakrs biggest contribution to Estonian cultural history is his
four-volume series of books (Vaibunud viiside kaja (2000); Omad viisid vras ves:
19401945 (2003); Sirp ja saksofon (2008); Oma laulu leidsime les: 1950. aastatest tnapevani (2010)) that uncovers the historical legacy of Estonian popular and jazz music
from its inception in the first decades of the century to present-day.
7. The word estrade means floor or platform in Latin.
99
Interviews with the musicians of the group8 and radio broadcasts are used
to provide complementary sources of information.
The almanac of Swing Club: the witness of its

time
The only preserved private historical document that records the erratic and
turbulent state of Estonian jazz in late 1940s from the perspective of musicians is the almanac of the experimental jazz group Swing Club.9 The document provides access to an extensive amount of information and so it is
difficult to underestimate its role as historical testimony. In terms of subject
matter, the articles of the almanac can be divided into two distinct categories. The common purpose of the writings belonging to the first group is
chiefly to record the practical matters related to the bands everyday business like planning and reporting activities, or the choice of the repertoire
and regular recording of events. The most significant common denominator
of the second group of articles is their overtly evaluative nature, ultimately
a form of jazz criticism. Besides introducing the modern trends and considering the artistic merit of jazz as a musical phenomenon, these writings
expand the strategic agenda of the bands musical worldview. The overall
philosophical perspective, although conveyed in a rather simplistic manner,
is complicit in the negotiations and growth of the aesthetic platform of the
musical enthusiasts whose creative output had limited autonomy under the
restrictive conditions.
Reading the almanac evokes instant confusion in the minds of those
familiar with the essence of Soviet society. The communist totalitarianism,
under which people lived simultaneously by the ideals and norms of two
contrary cultural configurations, produced a sharp conflict between public
and private spheres, as we know. While the public or official sphere was
the realm of the society dominated by the dogmas of the flourishing Communist Future, then the private sphere was the territory of communication
at a personal and intimate level where people could share their real feel 8. The inteviews were made with two musiciansguitarist Uno Loop and percussionist Kalju Terasmaa, who joined the group accordingly in 1950 and 1953. None of the
members of the SCs initial personnel are still alive.
9. The document is preserved at the Museum of Estonian Theatre and Music. A
single copy of the almanac was composed for the second anniversary of the band in
1950. It consists of 16 articles on 223 pages written between 19471950. Other written
documents on jazz such as articles published in highly ideologized public newspapers
and journals, i.e public texts, are beyond the scope of the present study. On the distinction between public and private texts see below.
100
ings and thoughts among close friends and family (Aarelaid 2000). The gulf
between private and public was also primarily a quality of Soviet period
texts. While private texts functioned on the level of communication between
specific persons, and sometimes within closed groups (in a private sphere)
then the public texts were strictly controlled and conveyed the ideology
of Soviet authorities (Lhmus 2002). Although the almanac was meant to
be disseminated as a private text among the members of the Swing Club,
the general mode of expression and particular formal structure of the text
demonstrate an apparent similarity to the public texts appearing in official
highly ideologized political discourse. For instance, the incisive critique of
the Westespecially American values, the manipulation of the particular
direct and slogan-like Soviet rhetoric, and the preference to stark black and
white colours over shaded tones in the linguistic presentationall indicate
obvious similarities with certain official Soviet journalistic practices. Besides
specific modes of expression, a high degree of ritualization is another Soviet
pattern emerging in the texts of the almanac. In wider society, participants
were invited to demonstrate polemical skills, raising important questions,
resolving controversy and formulating decisions. Part of those rituals were
cultural games as Kojevnikov (2000: 149) calls them rituals of diskussia (disputation) and kritika i samokritika (criticism and self-criticism) that
formed the phenomenon of intraparty democracy played in party structures. Similarly, highly organized procedures, precise planning, pro and
contra argumentations, progress reports, analysis and self-criticism followed the model of Soviet cultural games at the micro-level of the Swing
Club. Therefore, we can question the authenticity of the texts: did the disputations on the pages of the almanac reflect the real positions of the musicians and was this Soviet mode of expression an essential part of their
verbal communication?
One possible answer to this apparently complicated question can be
found in concepts of the new third generation of Soviet scholars. Appearing
at the beginning of the 1990s, this group of academics proposed that Soviet
society was something more than just a passive object of the regimes
manipulations and mobilization, as the previous theorists have suggested.
The Soviet citizens did not only master the language and practices associated with the new order, but they also internalized its values (Fitzpatrick
2000). Considering the cruelty of the regime where dissidence usually led
to brutal punishments, the mastering of the Soviet language was, indeed,
inescapable. The fear of the regime on one hand, and the willingness to
fulfil their artistic endeavours on the other, forced the members of the SC
101
to cast their musical aims in the mode of expression finding favour with
power blocs and their ideology. However, bearing in mind the direct mode
of expression and passionate enthusiasm evoked in the writings, it is hard
to believe that inclination to Sovietness was just a hypocritical performance
for the regime. But what was the extent of the real internalization of the
new value system? Did the internal (private) value systems simply coincide
with official ones or was the embrace of new values a deceptive front only
for the purpose of concealment? Neither this nor the previous question
can be answered unequivocally. Late Stalinism was a historical epoch that
produced several conflicting realities in the fulfilment of communist ideals,
under which people were faced with inescapable and abhorrent choices
when struggling for their survival. As Frst explains, late Stalinism was a
harbour for contradictory policies and realities. Still anchored in the sincerity of the revolutionary project, these years also perfected the appearance
of pretty facade, the petrifaction of ritual and the omnipresence of hypocrisy and dissimulation (2006: 4).
Probably the clearest perspective on the epistemological problem of the
truth value of the almanac emerges in the musicians own experiences as
packed into their personal statements. According to Swing Club musician
Uno Loop, the fear of the inhuman regime enabled the people to declare
their thoughts only within sanctioned boundaries; as he said,
Nobody wanted to be out of favourthe time was harsh. Thats why
people could express their thoughts only in a Soviet-minded manner
which left no space to authorities for accusations of anti-Soviet behaviour. You could be arrested literally in the middle of the talk when you
did or said something wrong, or slandered Soviet authorities. In the
case you were not sent to Siberia then you received at least an invitation to interrogation.10
As became apparent in the interviews, the musicians were not politically

aligned, and exposed neither public nor hidden resistance to the established rule. As Loop claimed,
Although now, in retrospect, our involvement with non-tolerated music
could be interpreted as a protest against the system, but in those days
we did not think about it. We indeed told anti-Soviet anecdotes to each
other but we did not discuss politics. The resistance to the new order
was ruled out because none of us wanted to become a university
drop-out or to be left without an appropriate job.11
10. Authors interview with Uno Loop, 1 October 2011.

102
However, Kalju Terasmaa, another Swing Club musician, mentions the generational differences in regard to the degree of fear the people had towards
the regime:
The men of the older generation were really very cautious. Everybody
had connections with the previous era whether by having served
in the in German army, or playing in an orchestra of wrong colour.
People were afraid of everything because of the black past. We, as
the representatives of younger generation, did not feel that intimidated. I remember we were very naive then and could not understand
how the music as such can be the subject of bans.12
That the tenuousness of the SC members orientation to Sovietness existed only deceptively under the condition of restrictive freedom of speech
emerges in the comments of the interviewees. Claimed Kalju Terasmaa,
The sincere Soviet-minded behaviour was excluded in SC members
case. This was done only for the purpose of concealment. In those
times you could not express yourself in another way because there
were secret ears everywhere. And in order to get to know the truth
you needed to read between the lines.13
The high degree of ritualization in the procedures of SC could be

explained by the personal characteristics of the band leader Uno Naissoo.
Naissoo (19281980) was composer, theorist, musician and music educator who had a remarkable role in the foundation of jazz tradition in Estonia.
His jazz suites opened a new era in the development of Estonian national
jazz tradition. He is the author of several articles in the almanac concerning
the bands everyday business and musical discussions on style. Precise
planning and accuracy were intrinsic to Naissoo and he expected to find
those qualities in others as well. Naissoo used to be very correct in his
accounting, said Loop, Maybe it is not fair to call him a bookworm, but
thats what he actually was! Besides, Naissoo seemed to favour certain
ritualistic patterns of behaviour. For instance, Loop received an official letter
of acceptance from Naissoo when joining SC in 1950. Also instructive is
Loops comment on the Soviet style shibboleths which were regarded by
him as an unavoidable part of life: We did not even notice the slogans
around us because all the life itself was like one huge slogan. Loops interview indicates that members of the band used the slogans even in their
private discussions. The call viis kaks maha! (down with five two) referred

12. Authors interview with Kalju Terasmaa, 1 October 2011.

13. Authors interview with Kalju Terasmaa, 12 October 2011.
103
to 52nd Street, the birthplace of bebop, and expressed their dislike of

bebop.14 According to Mertelsmann, taking on the values of the new regime
in this way was essential: people were imbued with communist propaganda
and even if they did not believe in it, they nonetheless embraced more or
less consciously certain Soviet ritualistic patterns (2003: 18).
Considering the overall Sovietness of the almanac the question rises
about its categorization: can we really qualify the texts imitating the journalistic patterns circulating in public social space as private by following the
most common model of division? One concept which definitely will be helpful
here is Oswald and Voronkovs (2004) more specified model of spheres
of communication in the Soviet Union. Without descending into details of
their provided ideas, in large scale the concept contained a thirdprivate
publicsphere which can be understood as a space between the official
and the private.15 Applying the logic of thissomewhat simplifiedmodel
on Soviet-era writings we can complement the private and public with the
third typeprivatepublic texts. In this contextual framework the almanac
of Swing Club places itself obviously into the third category of texts. While
expressing the first-hand ideas of particular interest groups who somehow
stood away from official ideologized media spheres, the texts were also
cast in certain Soviet modes of expression. Thus, balancing between the
two poles the writings create their own space of mediation which was not
distinctively private or public.
Forming a band: from initial ideas to

implementation
The almanac begins with lengthy explanations of the formation of the group
in the first chapter titled Seletuseks (For explanation) by Heldur Karmo.16

15. According to the authors the configuration of spaces of communication was not
stable but it changed during Soviet times. During the three post-Stalinist decades, a
second public sphere developed that was clearly divergent from the first public sphere
or officialpublic and that can be characterized as the public sphere of real life (Osvald
and Voronkov 2004).
16. As stated in the almanac (p. 10), Heldur Karmo (19271997) is a jazz historian,
theorist and writer who joined the band in its very beginning He was introduced to
jazz in 1940 and became a jazz enthusiast in 1943. The first writings originate from the
same year. For general audiences Heldur Karmo is known as writer or translator of more
than 3500 lyrics for Estonian popular songs. This first introductory chapter was written
retrospectively by Herbert Krutob in 1950 when the almanac was first presented on the
2nd anniversary celebration of the group.
104
The exact date of the bands establishment is unclear: the journey from the
initial idea germinating in May 1947 to mid-1948 when, as stated by Karmo,
the band stood on its own feet, lasted more than a year. The first seeds
of the idea were sown by two like-minded menUno Naissoo and singer
Herbert Krutobwho on their way home after a gig at the restaurant Kuningas decided to form a band. The initiative came from Krutob who sought to
form a band of men deeply interested in developing further modern music,
a kind of viable orchestra that would act not because of the craving for the
haltuuras17 but because of pure enthusiasm.18
A more detailed account of the initial procedures of the ensemble formation was told by Krutob in his personal notes called Minu muusikutee (My
way to music):19
After the end of the gig [at the restaurant Kuningas] at 23.00, we discussed with the leader of the orchestra how to develop jazz music in
Soviet Estonia. The conductor was Uno Naissoo who had just come
from Prnu to study in Tallinns Conservatoire of Music. He complained
about having no radio and accordingly no opportunity to listen to jazz
in his recently rented apartment in Nmme. I was a student of Tallinns
Technical School this time and used one of the classrooms of the school
for drawing my diploma paper I went to school in the nights because
the sunlight was too intense for drawing in daytime. This classroom
had a radio receiver where I was listening to the music all night. This
night I invited Naissoo to join me. He accepted my invitation. We were
listening to the top jazz music all night long and Naissoo wrote in his
notebook several tips on orchestration. In the morning we discussed
how to develop further our jazz music and came to a decision to form
an orchestra of young musicians interested in jazz. Naissoo proposed
to name the group Swing Club or SC (we sometimes interpreted SC as
an abbreviation of the word syncopation).20
In an interview on Estonian radio in 199021 SC violinist and arranger Ustus

Agur claims that the core membership of the band was formed from the
basis of the gig-band hired by the restaurant Kuningas in August 1947.
Since the repertoire of this group which included jazz from swing to
17. Haltuura is a Russian word meaning slovenly or negligent work. In musicians

slang the word means occasional or additional earnings. The word is almost equivalent
to the English word gig except it has a more negative connotation.
18. Almanac, Seletuseks, 4.
19. The private document of nine pages is dated 1 September 2003 and is the personal possession of Uno Loop.
20. Krutobs personal notes Minu muusikutee (My way to music), 3.
21. Broadcast, Siis kui dss ja pop olid plu all (When jazz and pop were under disfavour), 11 August 1990, Estonian radio archive.
105
bebop in addition to traditional dance music did not satisfy the conservative tastes of the management, the band was fired after one month. Their
employer claimed that the music was too loud and he was frightened of
the aggressive and defiant sounds of the music played by the jazz enthusiasts. However, these brief few weeks of contact between the musicians
launched the ensemble project which produced an active creative collaboration lasting almost ten years.
The aims of the Swing Club extended much further than just musical get-togethers of a close circle of enthusiasts. Just as important as
the achievement of high artistic standards by following American-British
models was to provide an intellectual challenge for participants through
the arrangement of special educational sessions in improvisation, harmony, ear-training, jazz history, instrument playing and English. As befitted the Soviet mode of expression, the aims of the group were formulated
in slogan-like calls: Free the idea of jazz from its connotations with functional music (i.e. dance music) and toward its development into symphonism, which means jazz symphonism! Fight against any objections!22
The initial ensemble of the Swing Club was formed as a dance orchestra
for the sporting union Kalev in October 1947. Typically in the Soviet era
ensembles and orchestras were attached to certain cultural or industrial
enterprises like houses of culture, sporting and trade unions, and factories
where they had the benefit of access to free instruments and rooms for
rehearsal. Since 1945, the gym of the sporting club Kalev had been one of
the most popular dancing venues (Krutob). The group consisted of eight
musicians who played accordion, violin, trumpet, tenor saxophone, piano,
bass, drums and voice. Their first public performance took place during the
festival celebrating the October Revolution, one of the biggest celebrations
of the year in the Soviet Union. Later, commenting on the rather cool acceptance of the new band, Karmo stated jokingly that, the reception was not
colossalthe roof remained in its place, nobody was in sublime ecstasy,
but we were not booed at either.23 Although the intellectual training was
declared as the second important goal beside music-making, it remained
a short-lived practice. Only two lectures, one on jazzs early history and
other on the Original Dixieland Jazz Band, were arranged accordingly on
19 November and 7 December 1947. The first and the last theory class was
held on 12 November. The end of formal educational sessions, however,

23. Ibid., 5.
106
did not leave the personnel musically uneducated. Based on the interviews
it is clear that the musicians took advantage of the informal training received
during rehearsals and discussions. For Loop, for instance, the SC meant
first of all free training that provided a foundation for all his musical knowledge. The seriousness and dedication the musicians showed in discussing
jazz is astonishing. As Agur described:
We debated jazz a lot and took it very seriously We wrote essays on
music which we called doctoral dissertations. The essays were read to
each other and discussed later. Unfortunately most of them are lost
It comes to my mind that Karmo had a thick book full of essay-like
writings called Between my feelings and common sense.24
Unfortunately the discontinuation of educational sessions was not the only

setback in the initial stage of the SCs development. The advancement of
SC was inhibited by the lack of time, laziness, shallowness and incapableness of the members, was Krutobs resentful complaint. To pre-empt
further setbacks, it was decided to reduce the core membership of the
band and form a smaller mobile group. As Krutob concluded, this format
enabled us to be more flexible and to achieve a higher professional level.25
As it becomes evident in the history of the SC, the format of the group
fluctuated throughout the bands existence. The changes in personnel
were sometimes the result of practicalities like the performance occasion
whether the music was needed for concerts or dance hallsor the ideological inappropriateness of particular musicians to the groups general
musical tastes. Nevertheless, there were four men who formed the nucleus
of the band: accordionist-composer Uno Naissoo, violinist-arranger Ustus
Agur, singer Herbert Krutob and ideologist of the collective Heldur Karmo
whose persistence was fed by fanatical enthusiasm and clear-cut musical
visions.
Besides the lack of commitment of the musicians in SCs initial stage,
problems also occurred with the rehearsal venue; the band had to skip their
get-togethers from time to time since the rooms of the sporting club were
occupied by other events. SC moved to a new rehearsal venue in autumn
1948Ttava Rahva Kultuurihoone (the House of Culture of Working
People) was the next host institution until summer 1951.26
24. An interview from the broadcast Siis kui dss ja pop olid plu all (When jazz and
pop were under disfavour), 11 August 1990, Estonian radio archive. None of the writings
including Between my feelings and common sense are preserved.
26. Krutobs personal notes Minu muusikutee (My way to music), 4.
107
Against bebop
Down with bebopviva swing!this could be the brief summary of the
Swing Clubs musical platform in the style of Soviet-era shibboleths. The
denunciation of bebop, making it a scapegoat for the decline of real
jazz, continues to be the central subject of debates in the entire almanac.
The title of the second article Bebopi vastu (Against bebop) is a clear
outline of Karmos stance: bebop is unacceptable. Thus Karmo, whose
expertise was valued as the theorist of the ensemble rather than presenting the bands artistic aims, declared the anti-ideals of the bands musical
creed.
The article has a rhetorical question at its very startQua vadis, jazz
music? With reference to bebop this receives a short, cutting reply: In
America, definitely to a dead end. Unfortunately, this bankrupt culture is
also noticeable in our little ensembles. Bebop was seen as music that was
sickly, neurotic, crackbrained, and without any content. The only justification for its existence was found in technical mastery, which in the next
sentence, however, was already a subject of severe condemnation. Bebop
was considered to be a place where the musician can demonstrate his
unshaken persistence and ability in playing the most inconsistent combinations of notes. But etudes are not music.27 The domination of the technique over emotion was one of the primary reasons why bebop acquired a
status of unacceptable music for Karmo. According to him, the capacity to
express emotions was the essential feature of music that bebop was unfortunately missing. The disproportionate supremacy of technique was the
main reason why bebop is illogical. Illogical is the excessive usage of +11
harmony, illogical are Gillespies trumpet hots, illogical and monotonous
are bebops melodies in their primitiveness or refinement. 28 In another
commentary the condemnation of rhythmic flexibility and freedom was
even based on philosophical reasoning:
Bebop has comefreakish chewing of notes by trying to stretch and
compress them like chewing gum. To give freedom in everythingin
rhythm and melodythis is bebop. The attempt to be free of everything which binds, the attempt to grasp music by the existential
liberation philosophy which inevitably leads finally to chaosthis is
bebop.29
27. Almanac, Bebopi vastu, 19.

28. Almanac, Ameerika musikaaline elutunnetus, 33.
29. Almanac, Ameerika muusikaline elutunnetus, 33.
108
Elaborating on his anti-bebop stance, Karmo adduces examples from contemporary literature. He compares bebop to Sartres novels, which, he
says, are buffoonish and nonsense and makes you sneer because of the
disregard of punctuation marks. He continues:
Yes, they [Sartres novels] make me smile. There is a certain amount
of sensational humour, something unprecedented and unforeseen,
which evokes ecstasy (exactly like bebop solos!), but the real jokes,
wittiness and humour can be found in some stylish caricature or classical humoresques of Mark Twain and Anton Chekov or from Jeromes
story about how three men rowed in boat.30
What Kamo declares here is an anti-modern stance which prioritizes the

classical humour of Twain, Chekov and Jerome over Sartres more modern
approach. In this literary context, bebop solos are likened with the character of Sartres novels; both bebop and Sartres novels evoke ecstasy and
unpredictability for the author.
The aim of the next excerpt is to find explanations for the existence
of bebop. Here, the author reaches the rhetorical conclusion that it is
almost impossible to find rational reasons for musics presence. Although
acknowledging that bebop is exciting and original, he claims that this
is unwarranted. Yes, it [bebop] is interesting and original, says Karmo,
but baseless because your common sense is incapable of comprehending bebop.31 The only reasonable explanation for the emergence of bop
was found in an American thirst for sensation: swing as an outworn style
had been phased out and the necessity for thrill32 and up-to-date forms
of entertainment were provided by a revitalized, new musical fabrication
named bebop. The word thrill seems to be for Karmo his favourite term for
characterizing American lifestyle in general. This is how the author draws
a caricatured picture of American thrill as a way of life; thrill is detective
stories and their reality, thrill is how somebody jumps out of the window of
the 52nd floor in front of the huge applauding crowd, thrill is how the man
shouts before shooting Eat Billybex yielding strength tablets.33
In contrast to the sickness and neuroticism of bebop, the music that
was assessed as healthy and positive in terms of artistic merit was swing.
Karmo argued that swing, in parallel with folk music, is harmonious in its
30. Almanac, Bebopi vastu, 20.
31. Ibid., 21.
32. The word thrill is extensively used in the writings and has a deeply negative connotation. The grammatically incorrect mode is used here for the purpose of authenticity.
33. Almanac, Bebopi vastu, 21, 22.
109
optimism; swing is healthy music, that in its classical form cannot wound
anybody.34 In contrasting the two styles, Karmo blames bebop for being
thrill while swings capacity to evoke right emotional excitement is held in
high esteem:
Bebop is based on momentary impressions. When listening to bebop
for the first time it seems the most colossal and thrilling music. Later
this impression falls back step by step and what is left is an absolutely
senseless chatter. But with swing it is other way around. It attracts
first time but with every successive listening reveals hidden charm.
Classical swing is an extremely deep, rational and harmonious music
worked out to smallest details. Almost fine-mechanical refinement of
swing is what makes it classical. But bebop in spite of complicated
harmony and immeasurable note speed never gives an impression of
a fully developed oeuvre.35
The last page of the essay is decorated again with the Soviet-style calls:
Down with bebop-rebop! Back to reason! We dont want Swing Club to
enrich the world by being an unbridled madhouse. The fool did it first, and
we scream after them. For what? THAT IS THE QUESTION.36 The closing
passage of the article contains guidelines that Karmo proposed for Swing
Clubs future artistic endeavours; that bebop should be rejected was one
of the most important instructions in the text. Other guidelines included the
suggestion to investigate closely the genres of popular music as well as a
call for being at the forefront of shaping public taste.
The furious condemnation of bebop, however, is not, as we know, anything exceptional in the contested history of jazz. In the American jazz press
of 1946 when the dispute between moldy figs and defenders of swing
began to cool down, a new war flared up this time between bebop modernists and swing traditionalists. The members of the anti-bebop front
complained about the inaccessibility and undanceability of bebop, the
wrong notes and excessive musical acrobatics, the elitism, hostility, and
avant-garde posturing of the musicians, their unconventional dress and
morally suspicious lifestyles (Gendron 1995: 3233).37 Similarly to their
American counterparts the Estonian swing enthusiasts, as previously
34. Ibid., 19.

35. Ibid., 21.
36. Ibid., 22.
37. While most writings on bebop in America promote the music as the antidote to
swing music, to the American and capitalist ideology (see Lott 1995 for instance) then
in Estonia the situation was different. Bebop was for Karmo the purest representative of
American values and ideology.
110
discussed, defended their anti-bebop positions with great passion and

confidence. But whereas the American war took place primarily in public
between journalists, in Estonia the battle of traditionalism versus modernism, that is swing versus bebop, had no public dimension. It was conducted within a closed circle of friends whose goal was primarily survival
in an environment of constant threats and suppression.
The adoration of swing and hatred for bebopthese clear-cut positions
set forth by Karmo were tendentious, of course, but his and his fellow musicians musical taste and values were modelled first of all on the information available at that time. Under the conditions of the Soviet information
blockade, the only source that somehow remained beyond the iron grasp
of the Soviet system was radio. In spite of continuous trials, the ultimate
restriction of the reception of Western radio stations failed and the officials
had no choicethis channel of information had to be left accessible to
Soviet citizens. In his overview of the role of radio stations in state socialist
countries Ritter uses a succinct metaphor in saying that radio was the jazz
instrument with the farthest reach and greatest volume which could not
be reduced to silence (2010: 36). This is how Ojakr described the situation in late 1940s Estonia: We needed to have records or a tape recorder
for investigating the jazz innovations closely, but this time even dreaming
about it wasnt possible. The only opportunity left for us was the attentive
listening to the radio stations (2008: 280). The scale of broadcasts available to Estonian jazz enthusiasts in the late 1940s and early 1950s was
rather broadthe area of reception spanned stations from Scandinavia to
Central Europe.38 The radio stations most often referred to by musicians
were British BBC and American AFN. Krutob mentions, for instance, that he
and Heldur Karmo discovered BBCs shortwave central station as early as
1944. This is how their familiarization with a new, at first incomprehensible,
modern musicswingwas described:
This music was really strange for us at the beginning. The melodies
were sympathetic but the style of orchestration and performance was
unacceptable for us used to German style music. We decided with
Heldur Karmo not to leave it before we started to understand this
music. As we discovered later, only 2-3 hours of everyday listening
during three weeks was necessary to make the music comprehensible. And our previous German favourites seemed to us now as the real
Saksa magedad (German tasteless music).
38. In addition to BBC and AFN, the radio stations available, as mantioned by the
interviewees, were Radio Nord, BBC jazz broadcast in Finnish, RIAS Berlin, Swedish
Radio and Munich Network.
111
The most influential soloists listed by Krutob included Artie Shaw, Benny
Goodman, Glenn Milller, Tommy Dorsey, Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong,
the Mills Brothers, Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra and Dizzy Gillespie.39
The meaning of jazz

As Gabbard has summarized, the word jazz has always carried a great
many meanings, many of them outside the music. Even as a term limited
to a type of music, it has gone through radical changes in meaning (2003:
2). How was the music discussed by enthusiasts gathering around Swing
Club in 1948, in the peak year of ideological pressure when music was
legally banned? How did the spokespeople of the group draw boundaries
around the music in terms of genre, how was the musics American origin
perceived and what was the musical discourse of jazz formed in the articles
of the almanac?
The article Jazzpro and contra, which has an incontestable role in
defining the positions and musical tastes of the band, opens with Karmo
complaining about the state of jazz in the Soviet Union. Soviet jazz has not
found the right path yet, he claims. There has been a lot of goodwill, a lot
of attempts to find a healthy and emotional direction, but alas, the searches
have not given us expected results Jazz still lacks well established principles and convictions appropriate to an art form. The article is supposed to
be a guiding light in forming the new artistic principles, as the author states,
in a manner reminiscent of Soviet calls to action: We need to be the pioneers who must create something new by borrowing everything valuable
from what has been created so far. We must create something which is free
of madness and coincides with Soviet ideals. To create art musicthats
what we want!40 The writing, in general, conveys firmly established views in
terms of musics social status and stylistic preferences of the group. Even
the fusion of Soviet rhetoric with effusively emotional, at times even vulgar,
modes of expression does not blur the clarity of the standpoints.
The way that jazz has been defined by its interrelation with wider musical
categories like art, popular or folk music, or with class as DeVeaux (2005:
23) has put it, has been a key factor in designating its social status. Karmos
view on the status of jazz is controversial as he claims unequivocally that
jazz is a light genre while pointing out that jazz is an art form, thus combining previously established binaries. By acknowledging jazzs function

39. Krutobs personal notes, Minu muusikutee (My way to music).

40. Almanac, Jazz pro ja contra, 5051.
112
mainly as music for dancing, he makes an explicit nod to swing aesthetics. Jazz creates, as he puts it simplistically, rhythmic background for
ballroom dances.41 Karmo attempts to juxtapose jazz with functional art
and he argues that, where in the visual arts there is functional or applied
art, in music there is a special category to which jazz belongsconsumer
music. Jazz, Karmo argues, stands in the same compartment with military music and old dance music. But, as it appears in the next passage,
his understanding of jazz as dance music is not shared sine qua non by
his fellow musicians. The strongest opponent of this point of view is Uno
Naissoo, for whom the explicit acknowledgement of jazzs status only as
dance music is good anti-propaganda for serious musicians who try to
insist that jazz is only music for dancing and not suitable for concert stages.
Karmo, in turn, parries the argument by detaching musics value from its
functionality and poses the rhetorical questions: Does the fact that jazz
is an accompaniment for dances reduce its value? Can it be a reason for
looking disparagingly down on jazz?42 Nevertheless, the author was not a
principled adversary of concert jazz but his preference for ballrooms over
concert halls was based on practical considerations. Karmo claimed that
the Swing Club had no artistic personnel whose playing skills would have
been compatible with ambitions of concert jazz as exemplified by Stan
Kentons music. In the next paragraph of the article the author argues with
Soviet musicologist Gorodinski43 who sees sharp diametrical contradictions between modern and old dance music and critiques acrimoniously
what he calls modern bourgeois dance music. The attack was, in fact, in
accordance with the political decisions on dancing and modern Western
dance music in the late 1940s. The dances like foxtrots and tangos, and the
music associated with modern dancing like jazz, were announced to be at
odds with the conception of Soviet kulturnost44 (culturedness) and accordingly had to be obliterated from the consciousness of Soviet citizens. As an
essential part of entertainment culture, dance was treated similarly to other
forms of cultural production. While the total prohibition of dancing as a significant form of entertainment turned out to be impossible, a way out was
found through the replacement of modern dances with older forms with
41. Ibid., 52.

42. Ibid., 53.
43. Ibid., 54.
44. Kulturnost was a principle of a broad meaning. It extended from the ability to eat
with knives and folks to high culture for the masses. Kulturni tselovek was one of the
aims of socialism (Mertelsmann 2003: 16).
113
more neutral connotations, and the application of new identity to dances

by renaming them. Both measures were aimed at decreasing the impact
of Western degenerating values on the minds of Soviet people. After the
renaming, for instance, the foxtrot became the quick-step, the tango the
slow dance, and the waltz the ballroom dance (Stites 1992: 119).
Karmos response to Gordinskis fierce assault on modern dance music
is diplomatic. He tries to adapt the swing aesthetic to the highly ritualized
system of Soviet arguments by making a nod to a particular paradigm in
everyday Soviet life and cultural discoursehappiness.45 Happiness as a
most natural human pursuit was artificially transmuted into official ideology to
fulfil the aspirations of socialist Utopia. Under Soviet conditions, happiness,
comprising notions like optimism, cheerfulness and positiveness, became
a clich in which collective happiness instead of personal happiness was
favoured. Thus, the author, by claiming optimistically that with our classical
swing we try to evoke strong and cheerful feelings in dancers, obviously
aligns the qualities of swing with Soviet ritualized patterns of cheerfulness.
Karmos somewhat theoretical considerations deviated, however, from
the actual practices of the ensemble. Swing Club became not solely a
dance band but had to appear on a wide range of occasions, some of them
rather untraditional to jazz. As stated previously, amateur musical collectives were affiliated to some state organizations and, in return, required to
appear on occasions as dictated by their hosts. The music of Swing Club,
for instance, was heard in a wide variety of venues and occasionsat the
concerts in the House of Culture of Working People and at the ball of young
communists in the concert hall of Estonia but also at the open-air concert
on a lorry celebrating International Workers Day on 1 May, in polling-places
on the day of elections, and at factories.
Although according to its functionality jazz was considered by Karmo
as a light genre, nonetheless it should meet the high artistic standards
comparable to criteria of high art. The author claims that it is not important why and where the music is played but how it is played. His attempt
to legitimate the music by comparison with the classical tradition leads
him to associate jazz, or more precisely swing, with qualities like consistency of form and content, refinement, development and detailed elaboration of musical ideas. However, although he approaches jazz through
the aesthetic categories of classical music he does not argue for the
equality of the two genres. The parallels Karmo creates between classi-
45. See for instance Balina and Dobrenko (2009).
114
cal and jazz music were rather aimed at the desire for jazz to be valued
in the eyes of serious musicians. As he states, We dont want to annoy
serious music lovers and elevate jazz to the honourable position equal
to classical music but we want to cultivate valuable music.46 Thus,
Estonian jazz musicians sought respect as serious artists and wanted
their music to be recognized as a form of art music. By doing so they
proceeded to legitimize jazz through the application of the paradigms of
classical music. Although Karmos unshakeable position was that jazz
should have gained status and authority on its own terms and in its own
environment, approaching jazz with the terms of classical music helped
to make the music resonate with the ideology-based principles of classical music which were considered to shape the musical tastes of Soviet
people. In a society where a hierarchical approach to musical genres
dominates, jazzs move up the ladder of those hierarchies would have
permitted more opportunities for approval of the music. Unfortunately
jazz had no chance to prove its real merit; on the contrary, the prohibition
of jazz by political decisions silenced the musics voice legally for some
time and literally exiled it to the underground.
One array of subjects that found frequent repetition in the musical
debates of the almanac is a dichotomy of American versus local or Soviet
jazz. Musicians, by making conscious use of their historical and social circumstances on the one hand and searching for individual musical identities
on the other, were producing music with idiosyncratic features from the
very beginning of jazzs appearance in other continents (Atkins 2003). Yet
the discovery of local traditions often led to struggles with the American
creative initiative in jazz. Dealing with jazz in Soviet Estonia we encounter a
more intricate situation. The refusal to recognize American musical dominance was fundamentally part of official discourse as an ideology-driven
confrontation with Americanisms and American lifestyles. Those ideological games around the essence of music, in turn, gave musicians a chance
to apply their creative potential in redefining and broadening the musics
expressive capacities, as we will see later.
Karmos first target of criticism is the senseless importing of [American] music. This remark is in obvious support of Milovskis argument in
his 1946 article About jazz music.47 By castigating the mindless adoration
of American jazz Milovski makes a point of saying that our jazz musicians
46. Almanac, Jazz pro ja contra, 52.
47. Milovskis article About jazz music was originally printed in Sirp ja Vasar, 19 October 1946.
115
havent thought a lot about what they are playing. They think that jazz is
jazz and American foxtrots are the holiest of holy. In dialogue with Milovski,
Karmo continues to blame local musicians for their unselective acceptance
and mindless import of American jazz by saying that the criterion for selection seems to be first of all the musics Anglo-American odour. American hegemony in jazz led him to claim that local jazz was underestimated:
America has been elevated to the status of the producer of the best jazz
music and it is thought that this music stands in the highest position. But
genuine jazz music from other countries has practically become a music
in which merit is not taken into account.48 For Karmo the only possibility of resisting American dominance was in grasping the creative initiative
and composing original melodies rooted in the local sonic heritage; as he
suggests in the spirit of Soviet shibboleths, the path for fighting [against
American influence] is an immediate start in composing our own original
repertoire which would be free of foreign sentimentalisms. The last word is
given to Milovski who, implying the need for innovation, insists that Soviet
musicians must create a new language, a language of Soviet jazz music
that would be in good health, emotional, without hysteria and would comprise Soviet songfulness.49 What he unfortunately leaves open in those discussions, heavily driven by ideology, is the actual musical expression of the
innovative visionswhat is the vocabulary of the new musical language or
what are the musical equivalents to somewhat hazy terms like emotional
and in a good health.
Filiisstiil50
In 1948, in spite of the calls for innovation, the style of music that befitted
the artistic ideals of the bands ideological leaders was old tried-and-tested
swing, as indicated throughout the untitled essay written by Uno Naissoo.51
The favourite term in the vocabulary of swings aesthetic agenda appears to
be the word solidity. In Estonian the word soliidne means decorous, dignified, cultivated or imposing, so the palette of meanings of the word is broad.
In Naissoos article it refers to quality of swing and the essential characteristic of concert music. At the same time within rhythmic dimensions the term
refers to the avoidance of exaggerations in rhythmic jagamine52 (division).
48.
49.
50.
51.
52.
Almanac, Jazz pro ja contra, 60.

Ibid., 61.
The term refers to the style of Enri Felic.
Almanac, 192203.
Jagamine (division) is a widely used term in the slang of Estonian jazz musicians.
116
One of the musical meanings of the word soliidne is represented, especially

for Uno Naissoo, by the style of a particular musicianAmerican accordion
virtuoso Ernie Felic.53
Felics style became Naissoos favourite first of all because of his involvement with accordion. The instrumentation of Felics quartet was similar to
the SC. The style of Felic, which Naissoo calls filiisstiil, seemed to satisfy the
artistic goals of the Swing Club in the late 1940s. As Naissoo mentions, the
filiisstiil comprises Miller-like solidity, optimistic and popular timbre, accordions extensive role as a soloist.54 His outline of Felics style is interesting
for the extensive usage of untraditional vocabulary full of original homemade
terms and almost classical-sounding musical descriptions. However, the
general capacity of those rather simplistic descriptions to convey the structure of musical technicalities and real artistic merit of the style is restricted,
being limited often to adjectival assessments in terms of simplistic polarities like good/bad, beautiful/ugly or right/wrong. For instance, in terms of
musical form, the most highly valued are the fully composed formal structures while AABA form is considered bad or, as Naissoo states, matsipkk
(boorish). In the spheres of rhythm the unacceptable quality is nervousness
which is mostly connected to exaggerated usage of syncopations or hiinakad (Chinese-like sounds)Naissoos original terminology. In contrast,
the rhythmic figures with simple syncopations are considered good. Surprisingly, improvisation as a musical feature, usually considered almost synonymous with jazz, is held in low esteem among the members of the group.
Although Naissoo pointed out that musicians without the ability to improvise cannot have a place in Swing Club, the ignorance of improvisation or
playing hot had practical reasons: the spontaneous ex tempore form of
music-making was beyond the technical mastery and general musical skills
of the Swing Club jazzmen. In terms of improvisational techniques preference was given to the melody-based solos that make music popular and
easily comprehensible whereas the solos that move away from melody are
difficult to grasp and thus assessed as bad. While improvisation was not
As Uno Loop explained, it concerns mainly the interpretation of rhythmwhether the
rhythms are played with swing feeling or not.
53. The spelling of the last name of Ernie Felic as appears in the articles is Filice.
This is probably due to the fact that Estonians have never seen the word in written form
but wrote it down according to English pronunciation. American accordionist Ernie Felic
was known for his unique orchestral style of arranging compositions for the accordion.
His distinctive timbre was achieved through the use of a special mute designed and
patented by himself.
54. Almanac, Vastus seltsimeestele oportunistidele, 39.
117
held in high esteem in the groups aesthetic agenda, arranging and orchestration, by contrast, held central positions in the musical establishment of
Swing Club. Filiisseade, the uncontested favourite of the ensemble, was as
described by Naissoo the four to five note voicing technique in the style of
Miller, whereby the highest voice is doubled by clarinet that helps to connect
the chords and gives a great brightness to the performance.55 Concomitant
with the leading role of harmony is the preference of harmonized melody
to single-voice improvised melody. The most highly prized compositional
technique for the development of melody was variation.
The four-page discussions on filiisstiil are dotted with slogans distinctive
to Soviet public discourse: The music of the Filices quartet is optimistic,
positive, impelling. Let it stay like this! Viva Ernie Filic and his quartet!56
The filiisstiil was not, of course, the only style whose aesthetic and musical
paradigms came under scrutiny in the almanac. Joe Mooney was the other
accordionist whose style was extensively discussed; however, with his style
too overshadowed by bebopish effects, it was excluded from the list of
bands favourites. In the article Mtteid stiiliprobleemidest57 (Thoughts
about stylistic problems) its author Ustus Agur points out five styles which
should be on the list of bands repertoire: tangos, waltzes, slows (ballads),
swing and concert music.
The ideological struggles with both jazzs American pedigree and the
classicists finally led to extensive changes in the musical palette of Swing
Club. Those imposed musical transformations were later interpreted paradoxically by Ustus Agur as positive shifts which extended the repertoire
of the band. The new style the group started to use after the ultimate
banning of jazz in 1950 for public performances and which replaced the
jazz-flavoured repertoire was hillbilly, as described by Agur in an interview
on Estonian radio in 1990:
We happen to be in a difficult situation with our band Swing Club,
because our aim was to play jazz, and not only to play the music,
but also discuss the problems of jazz We had to make changes to
the repertoire. It was necessary to decide whether to continue with
our concerts or cease all public performances. We talked between
ourselves about whether now we would have to play under the tub
lid58 We chose another path and started expanding the repertoire
55. Almanac, Unnamed article, 193.

56. Ibid., 196.
57. Almanac, Mtteid stiiliprobleemidest, 4549.
58. With this question Agur asks figuratively whether they should play only non-
publicly.
118

in directions that were legal and allowed at the time This was the
kind of music that we called then, and still call now, estraadi (variety)
music. Actually, the forced innovation in terms of repertoire was
usefulit enriched us in the end. Our souls were addicted to jazz,
but common sense said that we cannot be closed down and limited
only to this music One of our favourites became hillbilly. We were
playing and listening to this music with great enthusiasm. Some of
pieces were originalsKarmo just wrote new lyrics in Estonian on
the melodies, but Naissoo also enjoyed composing his own songs
in this style.59
Conclusions
The year 1948 marked the beginning of large-scale transformations in Estonian cultural history when, during the process of Sovietization, all the previous cultural heritage was announced as being an anathema to Soviet
citizens and replaced thereafter gradually with ideologically more acceptable culture which was socialist in content, national in form, recalling one
of the Soviets favourite slogans. For ideologues, jazz was bourgeois in
content and frivolous in form, and suffered the lowest political tolerance it
ever had in its entire history in the USSR. Regardless of the ideologys iron
grasp, Estonian jazz musicians did not surrender to political pressure and
continued their struggles for the musics right to exist. Although the banning
of the music and its verbal designation indeed caused essential changes
in official discourse, the music as such was still discussed and played in
private, as we have seen. One reason why Estonians had the opportunity to
enjoy a less oppressive atmosphere was the countrys geographical location. The distance from the Soviet ideological centre (Moscow) reduced the
power of ideology and gave Estonians the chance to experience a more
liberal political climate at times (Reimann 2011: 26). However, for Swing
Club this relative liberty, that was an obvious sign of politicians inability to
exercise all-encompassing control over cultural life, came to an end very
soon. As indicated in the later writings of the almanac, the word jazz was
erased from the vocabulary of the texts and the discussions were taken in a
new direction indicating the extensive changes also in the private discourse
of jazz. In musical performance, the changes appeared as stylistic transformations, as mentioned previouslyjazz-related sounds were displaced by
those of hillbilly on public occasions. Even so, musicians continued to play
jazz in private. Uno Loop illustrates this in his interview by recounting how
59. Broadcast, Siis kui dss ja pop olid plu all (When jazz and pop were under
disfavour), 11 August 1990, Estonian radio archive.
119
SC became an underground group whose activity was supported even by

party activists:
We were rehearsing literally under groundSC was an underground
organization. Fortunately the control was not that intense and we did
not face any power executives The head of the Sakala Culture
House [the other name for Ttava Rahva Kultuurihoone where SC
practiced in 19481951] Fred Raudberg supported our activities.
Although he was communist and knew that we played jazz during our
rehearsals, he protected us and took care that our activity was kept
secret. And he was sincere. He was red from outside but white from
the insidereddish60 as we called those times.
The extent of Estonians desire for the intellectualization of jazz was

astonishing. The genre was taken not just as a musical practice but became
a subject of sophisticated reasoning, debates and writing of doctoral dissertations, as musicians used to say between themselves. This essay
has demonstrated that Estonian musicians were actively constructing their
own system for evaluating, understanding and discussing jazz. The set of
evaluative criteria deployed by Estonians appreciated, on the one hand,
the traditional values of jazzs aesthetic agenda but, on the other hand,
their discourse was intertwined with their own tastes, with local cultural
and musical paradigms and with the imperatives of ideology that were the
inseparable partner of Soviet cultural discourses.
The musical taste-shaper for Estonians became swing, the primary
music played on the radio. Swing was our music, claims Loop, we were
used to 4/4 medium tempos. But when bebop emerged, we were all against
it. We recognized that bebop helps us to develop technique and tried to
play it, but it did not work.61 That the aesthetic of bebop was, for Estonians
used to more simplistic swing, difficult to comprehend was also confirmed
by Ojakr. As he says, The technical fireworks of bebop were beyond the
comprehension skills of Estonian folksy musicians (2008: 280).
In Estonia Late Stalinism was an era during which the power of ideology together with Sovietization required from its participants the skills of
hypocrisy, conformity and deception for survival. The survival of jazz during
this period depended largely on the ingenuity of its proponents to attune
the music into the patterns of highly politicized Soviet intellectualism for
which the main artistic paradigm was Socialist Realism. The Estonians
60. Reddish meant in spoken language the party members who publicly supported
Communist power but in private were against it.
120
views on jazz were conservative, backward-looking and represented an

anti-modern stance but their eyes were directed to the future in seeking
new paths for their creative artistic output, irrespective of the mode of labelling the innovations.
In response to my epistemological rumination I would like to say that my
purpose was not to resolve those apparently contradictory issues and limit
myself to simplistic epistemological dualities like true and false or inferior
and superior. The almanac should be interpreted as a sign of the Stalinist
era in its particular historical context. The content and mode of the articulation of the issues discussed in the almanac are in mutual dialogue with the
social structure which, in the case of Stalinism, limits largely the agents
capacity to manifest his/her free will.
Bibliography
Aarelaid-Tart, A. (2000) Topeltmtlemise kujunemine sovjetiajal. Akadeemia 4: 755
73.
Atkins, T. E. (2003) Towards a Global History of Jazz. In Jazz Planet, ed. Taylor E.
Atkins, xiixvii. Mississippi: University Press.
Balina, M., and E. Dobrenko (2009) Petrified Utopia: Happiness Soviet-style. London:
Anthem Press.
Chew, G., and M. Bek (2004) Introduction: The Dialictics of Socialist Realism. In
Socialist Realism and Music, ed. Mikula Bek, Geoffrey Chew and Petr Macek,
915. Praha: KLP.
DeVeaux, S. (2005) Core and Boundaries. The Source: Challenging Jazz Criticism
2: 1530.
Fitzpatrick, S. (2000) Stalinism: New Directions. London and New York: Routledge.
Frst, J. (2006) Late Stalinist Society: History Policies and People. In Late Stalinist
Russia: Society between Reconstruction and Reinvention, ed. Juliane Frst,
436. London: Routledge.
Gabbard, K. (2003) The Word Jazz. In The Cambridge Companion to Jazz, ed.
Mervyn Cooke and David Horn, 16. London: Cambridge University Press.
Gendron, B. (1995) Moldy Figs and Modernists: Jazz at War (19421946). In
Jazz Among the Discourses, ed. Krin Gabbard, 3156. Durham, NC: Duke
University Press.
Kojevnikov, A. (2000) Games of Stalinist Democracy: Ideological Discussions in
Soviet Sciences, 194752. In Stalinism: New Directions, ed. Sheila Fitzpatrick.
London and New York: Routledge.
Kreegipuu, T. (2005) Nukogude kultuuripoliitika printsiibid ja rakendused Eesti
NSV-s aastatel 19441954 kirjanduse ja trkiajakirjanduse nitel. Magistrit.
Tartu likool. http://dspace.utlib.ee/dspace/bitstream/handle/10062/1026/kre
egipuu.pdf?sequence=5.
Lauk, T. (2008) Jazz Eestis 19181945. Doctoral dissertation, University of Tallinn.
Lott, E. 1995. Doule V, Double-Time: Bebops Politics of Time. In Jazz Among the
Discourses, ed. Krin Gabbard, 24355. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.
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Lhmus, M. (2002) Transformation of Public Text in Totalitarian System: A SocioSemiotic Study of Soviet Censorship Practices in Estonian Radio in the 1980s.
PhD thesis, University of Turku. http://www.hot.ee/loehmus/Kirja.PDF.
Mertelsman, O. (2003) Hariduse ja kulturi ekspansioon ssteemi stabiliseerijana.
Eesti 19401956. Kultuur ja elu 3: 1618.
Ojakr, V. (2008) Sirp ja saksofon. Tallinn: Kirjastus Ilo.
Oswald, I., and V. Voronkov (2004) The Public-Private Sphere in Soviet and PostSoviet Society: Perception and Dynamics of Public and Private in Contemporary Russia. European Societies 6(1): 97117. http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/146
1669032000176332
Reimann, H. (2011) Ideology and the Cultural Study of Soviet Estonian Jazz. In The
Jazz Chameleon, ed. Janne Mkel, 2335. Turku: Uniprint.
Ritter, R. (2010) The Radioa Jazz Instrument of its Own. In Jazz Behind the Iron
Curtain, ed. Gertrud Pickhan and Rdiger Ritter, 3556. Berlin: Peter Lang.
Slonimsky, N. (1950) The Changing Style of Soviet Music. Journal of the American Musicological Society 3(3): 23655. http://dx.doi.org/10.1525/jams.1950.
3.3.03a00040
Starr, S. F. (1983) Red and Hot: The Fate of Jazz in Soviet Union. New York: Limelight.
Stites, R. (1992) Russian Popular Culture: Entertainment and Society Since 1900.
New York: Cambridge University Press.
Other sources
Almanac of Swing Club. Unpublished document. Preserved at the Museum of Estonian Theatre and Music.
Authors interview with Uno Loop, 1 October 2011.
Authors interview with Kalju Terasmaa, 12 October 2011.
Broadcast, Siis kui dss ja pop olid plu all (When jazz and pop were under disfavour), 11 August 1990, Estonian radio archive.
Krutob, Herbert. Personal notes, Minu muusikutee (My way to music), 1 September
2003. Personal possession of Uno Loop.
Milovski, S. About Jazz Music. Sirp ja Vasar, 19 October 1946.
[JRJ 4.2 (2010) 123-140]

doi:10.1558/jazz.v4i2.123

Jazz and race in colonial India:

The role of Anglo-Indian musicians in the
diffusion of jazz in Calcutta
Stephane Dorin1
Associate Professor, University Paris 8, Culture and Communication Department, 2 rue de la
Libert, 93526 Saint-Denis Cedex, France
stephane.dorin@gmail.com
Abstract
Musical forms such as ragtime and jazz were played in Calcuttas hotels and clubs, important institutions in elites social life in colonial India. The musicians could be European
or American, when a foreign band was hired for a season. Some of these formations
tended to include Anglo-Indian members. Anglo-Indian musicians acted as go-betweens,
passing down the theoretical knowledge of western harmony as well as the practice of
western instruments to the generations of post-Independence India. Moreover, they were
the first Indian musicians to perform jazz and blues standards in Calcutta or Bombay,
around World War II. Thus, they played a major role in the diffusion of jazz and blues
music in India.
Keywords: Anglo-Indians; India; race; Roy Butler; Teddy Weatherford
The history of jazz has often been reconstructed around the idea of an
essentialist jazz tradition, which unifies, in an evolutionary progression,
all the various genres, places, styles and historical contexts of jazz, as
suggests DeVeaux (1998: 489). Jazz history could also be grasped as the
multiple stories, sometimes parallel, sometimes divergent, of the different
branches related to the places and the social worlds where it was played
and listened to. In these locations, local musicians and audiences developed different, if not competing, definitions of jazz. India is one of the quite
unknown places in its history, and is yet to be written. There is abundant
literature on the relationship between jazz and classical Indian music, from
Coltrane to Shakti, what has been coined fusion or Indo-Jazz in the 1960s
1. Stphane Dorin is a sociologist of music and culture. He worked on the globalization of jazz and rock music in India, and now develops a fieldwork on classical music
audiences in France and in Europe, in order to understand the relations between highbrow and lowbrow cultures, the role of the media in cultural production and the changing
omnivorous patterns of cultural consumption.
124
(Berendt 1987; Farrell 1988, 1997). But its always in the direction of hybridization conceived as a mixture of musically heterogeneous substances that
their reports are focused. In the first and seminal study on jazz in India,
Warren Pickney Jr. insisted on the musicological aspects of acculturation,
with a study of a couple of Indian recordings, that he labelled Native Indian
Indo-Jazz, by Braz Gonsalves, a Goan saxophonist, who began his career
in Calcutta in the 1950s, and then played in Bombay and in Delhi (Pinckney
1989). Gonsalves illustrates the major contribution of Anglo-Indian musicians to the diffusion of jazz in India.
According to the Constitutional Law of India (1950), an Anglo-Indian
means a person whose father or any of whose other male progenitors in
the male line is or was of European descent but who is domiciled within the
territory of India and is or was born within such territory of parents habitually resident therein and not established there for temporary purposes only
(Basu 1998: 460). This article appeared for the first time in the Government
of India Act (1935), in which the various minorities of India, according to
ethnicity, religion or caste, were granted specific rights.
Thus, the Anglo-Indians are defined as a legal category, comprising all
descendants of male European settlers, under the Indian Constitution. This
category includes not only Anglo-Indians of British descent, but also Goans,
of Portuguese extractions, and all the descendants of French, Dutch or
Spanish male ancestors (Caplan 2001; Dorin 2005). From a cultural point of
view, Anglo-Indians and Goans have played a leading role in the circulation
of jazz in India as music lovers, but also as musicians, firstly for European
audiences and then, gradually, for Indian audiences in the decades after
Independence. Through their interactions with European and American
musicians, they contributed to the making of an Indian version of jazz and
the diffusion of this cultural form.
Jazz circulated in India very early, in the major cities of the colony,
Bombay, Delhi, Madras and Calcutta. Even if Madras or Bombays jazz
scenes have also been very active (Fernandes 2011), I focus here on the
major role of Calcutta in the cultural economy of colonial India. The AngloIndian community, by its size and scope,2 had a deep impact on the cultural
2. Anglo-Indian took over other denominations, such as Eurasian, in official census
and reports from 1911. In the last census where this category was used in statistics, in
1941, the whole community in India was not over 250,000 persons, and Calcutta, with
29,000 members, was the largest regional community, before Madras. After 1941, the
census used the category of Christians, which is less relevant to identify the size of the
community, which was estimated, in 2001, as less than 120,000 people, due to emigration
since Independence in 1947. See Caplan 2001 and Dorin 2005.
Jazz and race in colonial India
125
life of the city. In fact, Calcutta, because of its legacy as the ancient capital
of Indiauntil 1911was the epicentre of the distribution and acclimatization of western cultural forms, particularly jazz music for the decades preceding World War II, which was revealed to be a turning point in the history
of the circulation of jazz in India.
In this essay, I would like to emphasize the role of the Goanese and the
Anglo-Indians in the diffusion of jazz in colonial India. They acted as cultural mediators, because they have contributed more than any other social
group to the transmission of cultural forms during the Raj, between the
colonizers and a tiny Indian elite. In these cultural forms, jazz provides an
eloquent example for the role played by music in the redefinition of social
and racial boundaries in India.
Musical antecedents of jazz in colonial India

The idea that jazz and rock culture emerged in India with globalization
during the 1990s exaggerates the role of the media and global cultural
industries and underestimates the historical depth of the diffusion of western
popular music in India. Even though there is no official date for the arrival
of jazz, there is some evidence that jazz hit the shores of India as early as
the 1920s3 (Dorin 2005; Fernandes 2011). But, in the same manner as in
Britain, the early circulation of American culture in the nineteenth century
has conditioned the way jazz was perceived and received in India. And, only
a few years later, black and blackface minstrel shows circulated in India. If
T. Daddy Rice was an early visitor in Britain in 1836, the San Francisco
Minstrels toured Australia and India in 1849 thanks to their agent, William H.
Bernard, according to the German discographer Lotz.4 They were followed
in the 1860s by Joe Brown and, in the 1870s, by the song and dance team
of Booker and Canfield.
Harry Reynolds, himself leading a company of minstrels in Great Britain,
reported that Dave Carson has boasted of having driven for the first time
a band of minstrels in India in the late 1860s. Reynolds told also the story
3. H. J. Collett, a journalist, wrote one of the first stories of jazz in India, for the
Illustrated Weekly of India. He interviewed one of the most well-known Anglo-Indian jazz
musicians of the times, Hal Green, who explained that the roots of jazz were planted in
India in the year 19171922. The bands consisted of piano, violin, cello, string bass and
drums, and they played rag-time, foxtrots and Viennese waltzes mostly (Thirty Years of
Jazz in India, 22 August 1948).
4. Cf. Rainer Lotz, sleeve notes, Jazz and Hot Dance in India, 19261944, Harlequin,
History of Jazz series, volume 4, HQ 2013, 1984.
126
of Willie Freear, who became a very famous minstrel, and, once in Calcutta, decided to leave the company to embark on a one-man show at the
Coronation Theatre, breaking the conventions of blackface minstrelsy. But
Freear lost all his money in the show, which revealed itself to be a disaster. His luck changed the day he crossed the street and fell in front of an
Indian prince, along with a British official he had already met before. He
plucked up courage and stopped the princes carriage and asked him for
the privilege of presenting his show in the princes private residency. The
latter, after having sought advice from the British officer, accepted. Thus
Willie Freear gave his show at the princes house for his numerous Indian
hosts. It was only the first of a long series of private engagements of this
kind, engagements that made him a rich and successful artist, patronized
by Indian upper classes and British expatriate bourgeoisie (Reynolds 1928:
21617).
As Catherine Parsonage suggests, the early blackface performances
established expectations that not only influenced the reception of black
minstrels, but, aided by the latters perpetuations, established criteria
against which black performance continued to be evaluated in the twentieth century (2005: 6). In fact, two aspects of the reception of minstrelsy
in Britain can be observed in reactions to jazz: firstly, the idea that black
culture differs from the white, in its simplicity and exoticism, and otherness, with an innate musicality; and, secondly, black entertainment,
with a more realistic aspect of black life, was less popular than blackface, less threatening and lighter because of the caricature of the Negro
they provided. The competition between black and blackface minstrel
shows forced black minstrels to mimic themselves so as to match the
expectations of white audiences.
In India, blackface and black minstrel shows enacted the racial division
of music and the logics of popular entertainment in a more profound way
than in Britain. In fact, there was already a racial division in the western
entertainment field, with an exclusion of Indian people from both the audiences and the performers. Minstrelsy introduced another dimension, with
the division between black and white performers. If there were very few
black people in Britain at the time of the minstrel shows, they were even
less in India. Blackface and black minstrels tended to demonstrate that
there was something like a hierarchy between black and white, where black
meant exoticism and primitiveness. The place of the Indian in this hierarchy was yet to be defined, under white colonial rule and its cultural domination, but above primitiveness thanks to an ancient and profound Indian
127
civilization. At the same time, minstrel shows offered to white audiences

the first instances of black culture, even though they were received with
attraction and repulsion, fascination and fear, love and theft, as Lott puts
it (1993). Minstrel shows initiated, in India as well as in Britain, multiple disruptions in the delineation of racial boundaries, but also in the separation
between popular and elite entertainment, and between authenticity and
acculturation.
According to Lotz, initial contacts with these musical forms had not effectively integrated with the local culture, and coon songs, spirituals, ragtime
or cakewalk remained purely alien art forms in India, of interest only to the
British settlers until the 1960s. This point is in a large manner inaccurate
regarding the members of orchestras, since the Goanese and Anglo-Indian
musicians began to join the entertainment scene in the 1920s. At that time,
grand hotels began to hire foreign orchestras and the Anglo-musicians
began to play dance music and jazz with foreign musicians in these orchestras. Regarding the audiences, the vast majority of them were British, or
European, along with a growing number of European-educated students,
as the journalist in the Illustrated Weekly of India phrased it in his article of
1948. It is unclear, however, if they were Indians or Anglo-Indians. Some
of the listeners were also members of the tiny westernized and comprador
Indian elites.
This paved the way for a mixed reception of jazz and American popular
culture among Indian audiences. It could also explain why it has been
somehow difficult to produce a local version of jazz, since it was associated
with racial prejudice and colonial domination.
Racial exclusion and popular music under the

Raj: Anglo-Indians as musicians
Even if in the beginnings of colonialism in India, Indian folk and classical
music was produced and received by Indians, and western classical and
popular music by Westerners for colonizers and a tiny westernized Indian
elite, there has been a musical and cultural proximity of the Anglo-Indians
and the Goanese with Western music, and tolerance by the authorities,
since the order of 1795 of the East India Company vis--vis the Anglo-Indian
musicians (Hawes 1996).
In fact, in the early stages of colonization, the marriage of British and
Indian soldiers was encouraged, especially by the Court of Directors of
the East India Company, which offered 5 rupees to the mother of any child
born out of any such marriage. But, by the end of the eighteenth century,
128
the East Asians, as they were called, were too numerous, and represented
a threat to colonial domination, because, in 1776, in San Domingo, the
mulattoes had revolted against the Spaniards. That is why a series of three
orders have been issued between 1786 and 1795, in order to limit the size
and the power of the East Asian community. The first two orders forbade
East Asians to receive European education and obtain civil and military
jobs in the East India Company. The third one, in 1795, limited access to the
military: only young men with two European parents could join, otherwise
they could only become farriers or fifers (Hawes 1996). Alternatively, they
could form brass bands, getting the chance to be in the military, in touch
with European culture and way of life, and benefiting from their knowledge
of western music and harmony.
In his seminal study of the effect of migration and circulation of people
on culture, Human Migration and the Marginal Man, Robert Park suggested, it is in the mind of the marginal man that the conflicting cultures
meet and fuse (1928: 881). This concept was applied to the case of the
Anglo-Indians in India. Their status was conceived as a formal marginality,
according to Gist and Wright (1973), since their marginality is recognized,
and even granted by the law. In so far as their position in the western music
field has become dominant through the nineteenth century, I would like to
label the Anglo-Indians as musical marginal men.
Their relative number and their high visibility in the field of music, well
above their absolute numbers in the population, thus reflect two factors:
the first one is pragmatic, since it is the knowledge and practice of European music through the tradition of church music, and the second one is
more political, as they were tolerated alongside the colonizers in the role of
entertainers and Western musical entertainment providers. Thus, the only
Indian musicians allowed to perform western music, whether classical or
popular, were the Anglo-Indians, granting them a place of musical formal
marginality.
The politics of racial exclusion in the vast majority of the entertainment
scene, like the Calcutta Club, for instance, are one major factor that influenced later the ways in which jazz circulated in India. When the Indians
were allowed to enter these venues, they were either industrial or political
leaders useful to the British, and dominated by them, like the Maharajas, or
Anglo-Indian musicians. The entrance to clubs and hotels was not always
strictly forbidden for Indians, although it could be more stringent in select
clubs, such as the Saturday Club, but it was impossible to get in dressed in
dhotis or not in a European suit, even decades after Independence.
129
Thus, the Anglo-Indians were the first Indians to be authorized in these

social circles under the Raj. In these venues and clubs, new definitions of
entertainment and new genres of music emerged. One can thus understand why the Anglo-Indian community played a leading role in the transmission of western popular music in India, in the circuit of clubs and grand
hotels, where they provided live music, and the beginnings of jazz, but also
in the movie industry, where they contributed to the diffusion of western
instrumentation, western harmony and western popular music, especially
jazz and then pop (Dorin 2012). In the early steps of the diffusion of jazz in
India, Anglo-Indian and Goanese musicians were then the very first to listen
to foreign bands and try to emulate them.
Jazz and the redefinition of racial boundaries in

colonial India
The international hotel orchestras: the reception of jazz
and hot dance as a distraction for colonial elites
Long before ragtime and jazz, the diverse genres of dance music in vogue
were waltzes, polkas, rumbas and tangos. Goanese and Anglo-Indian people,
through their knowledge and practice of Western music gained notably in the
church, formed the bulk of dance musicians. However, hotels and clubs had
to hire the most prestigious foreign bands, which had spent several years
in the Orient, or at least to reserve the place of bandleaders for European
or American musicians. Until World War II, the vast majority of orchestras
employed in grand hotels such as the Grand in Calcutta or Bombay Taj Mahal
were Australian, British, French, Hungarian or American.
The first jazz band to tour the major hotels in Asia, from the Galle Face in
Colombo to the Raffles of Singapore, through the Grand in Calcutta and the
Taj Mahal in Bombay, was Dan Hopkins Syncopated Five in 1922, according to Lotz (1984). The group, however, left no trace on record. In 1926,
the Grand Hotel had signed a contract with the Canadian Jimmie Lequime,
previously hired in Shanghai.
His orchestra was truly cosmopolitan because there were two Russians,
Joe Speelman (tenor sax) and Monia Liter (piano), an Austrian, Victor Vic
Halek (tenor sax, violin), a Filipino, Nick Ampi (trombone) an American, Bill
Houghton (drums) and a South African, Al Bowlly (banjo). In April 1926,
Jimmie Lequimes Grand Hotel Orchestra recorded a fox trot, Soho Blues,
for HMV, the first trace of recorded jazz in India.
An excellent performance for the orchestra, well beyond the gimmicks
of hotel bands of the era, including in the US, is revealed, as shown in the
130
available records (Lotz 1984). They added a second title, The House Where
The Shutters Are Green, arranged by the pianist of the orchestra, Monia
Liter. Shortly after these recordings, Lequimes orchestra left Calcutta for
the Raffles Hotel in Singapore. In November 1932, John Abrianis Six left
Berlin for the Saturday Club in Calcutta, where they remained until 1935. In
that time, the orchestra cut several tracks for the Indian label Twin, but no
record has apparently been preserved, and no evidence has reached us
about the quality of these recordings.
There were also black jazz bands that toured early in the East. Teddy
Weatherford (19031945), a native of Virginia, spent much of his career
as a pianist abroad, having played for some time in New Orleans and then
in the Chicago circuit in the early 1920s. His core activities in jazz, and
most of his recordings, were conducted in India, particularly in Calcutta
in the early 1940s, where he died of cholera. He has become, beyond its
importance, actual and documented in the history of jazz, a true icon for
jazz fans in Calcutta, and in India in general, where every jazz buff keeps
the memory of his performances in the orchestra of the Grand Hotel in
Calcutta.
Cultural transactions and the diffusion of a jazz culture in

Calcutta in the 1930s
In India, at the end of 1933, we can thus identify the first orchestra hiring
black musicians, including Roy Butler (18991997), a black saxophonist
from Chicago, whose souvenirs and private archives have been a major
source for this study.5 While he had already toured Europe in several
bands, Roy Butler joined Herbert Flemming and His International Rhythm
Aces at the end of 1932. The orchestra received an offer to perform in South
America and was found in May 1933 in Buenos Aires, with local musicians
in addition to the cast for the tour. Back in Europe, the musicians played in
various formations in Paris and cut a few tracks, especially for the Brunswick label. Among others, they played with Leon Abbey, Lucky Millinder
and the tenor saxophonist Alfred Pratt, who subsequently recorded a few
solos with the orchestra of Louis Armstrong in Paris in 1934. Herbert Flem 5. Roy Butlers Collection, entitled Journey of a Jazz Sideman, has been stored at
the Music section of the Chicago Public Library since 2000. It contains essential material
for the rarely documented history of the circulation of black American jazz musicians in
Asia, particularly India. Photographs, clippings from not easily accessible local newspapers, programs of musical evenings organized at grand hotels, and recording sessions
accounts all constitute valuable traces of the presence of these musicians and their
interactions with local musicians.
131
mings International Rhythm Aces played one night at the Salle Pleyel but
failed to win a regular appointment.
During this period they received a timely invitation from India, to play
in the Grand Hotel during the winter season. The orchestra arrived in Calcutta to play at the Grand Hotel on 12 December 1933. Indeed, between
December and April, just before the heat of summer, Calcutta was the most
exclusive winters city of the Empire and thus a holiday destination, where
music and entertainment abounded.
Herbert Flemming and his International Rhythm Aces, Grand Hotel, Calcutta, December
1933. From left to right: H. Flemming, Cesar Rios, Crickett Smith, Cle Saddler, Roy Butler,
Luis Pedroso, crouching. Roy Butlers Collection. Courtesy Chicago Public Library
The band, housed at the Grand, included a trumpeter, Crickett Smith

(18831947), whose voice was compared with that of Armstrong, and who
was nicknamed the Buddy Bolden of New York, a trombonist Herb Flemming, two saxophonists, Cle Sadder and Roy Butler, a pianist, Cesar Rios,
a bassist, Harlod Kumai, and finally a drummer, Luis Pedroso, of Cuban
origin. Their contract ended in April and the group broke up, Fleming
and Cle Sadder embarking to Shanghai where they played with Buck
Clayton, while Butler, Smith and Pedroso decided to stay in India. But this
residence in Calcutta was the first step in the take-off of the Indian jazz
scene.
This period appears, according to Butler, to be among the happiest
periods of his life as a sideman. Working as a dance-band musician was
not very demanding, while the pay and living conditions were excellent.
The musicians were treated like royalty by both Indian and European customers, greedy for modern American entertainment, and by the management of hotels and clubs, to whom they provided quality services, but also
132
glamour and prestige as jazz musicians, helping to establish the reputation

of the Indian winter season under the Raj. There was a need for the circulation of American culture in India, since it was trendy in Britain, and the
newspapers were reporting what was played and received in London or
New York. Calcutta and Bombay were two great cities of leisure for colonial elites, in the winter season especially. Jazz was then associated with
modernity and the emergence of a rapid and intense metropolitan way of
life, along with electricity, the car industry, trains, boats and planes. Calcutta, Bombay, Madras and Delhi had to have jazz in their clubs and hotels,
as an embodiment of modernity and freedom.
It is in this spirit that Crickett Smiths Symphonians recorded for the
Indian label Rex, in Bombay, in April 1936, Taj Mahal, a true musical advertisement of a fox trot for the hotel. We can hear interesting solos by Teddy
Weatherford on piano and Roy Butler on sax and the voice of black American drummer Creighton Thompson.
The Indianization of jazz during World War II:

the role of Anglo-Indian musicians
The war and its resulting population movements accelerated the process
of incorporation of Indian musicians in jazz bands, as shown in the lists of
personnel involved in the orchestras during the recording sessions for this
period in Roy Butlers private archives.
There is no doubt that, beyond the circulation of records and the importance of radio, direct contact with European and American jazz musicians,
and their instruments and musical practices, had at least awakened Indian
musicians desire to know more about jazz musicdance programs 6
offered in entertainment included rumba, waltz, foxtrot, ragtime; the idea of
a genre labelled pure jazz was not a priority, especially in this context
and their desire to play jazz in their turn. It can be noted that the incorporation of Anglo-Indian and Goanese musicians in clubs and grand hotels
orchestras began as early as the early 1930s.
One of the first predominantly Goanese bands to be regularly engaged
in Bombay in the 1930s was the Rhumba Boys, with L. A. Abreu on the
saxophone, Johnny Gomes on clarinet and Mike Machado on piano. But
one of the first jazzmen to dominate the scene was neither Anglo-Indian nor
6. In Roy Butlers archive, one can find some programs or promotional material that
Butler collected during his career. For instance, in the Programs box of the archive, there
is the brochure of the Grand Hotel of Calcutta (1930s), with rumbas, Viennese waltzes
and rag-time.
133
Goanese: this was Rudy Cotton, whose real name was Caswaji Khatau, a
tenor saxophonist, who recorded with Teddy Weatherford in Calcutta between 1943 and 1944, and opened, leading his own band, the first jazz
festival in India, the Jazz Yatra in 1978. It is clear that until the 1950s, most
Indian jazz musicians were of European descent, that is to say Anglo-Indian,
and that Rudy Cotton was an exception.
The saxophonist Roland Cran, who was to lead his own band some
years after, remembered his days in the 1930s this way:
I met Weatherford around 1935 in Singapore; he worked at Raffles
Hotel and I at the Hotel Adelphi I was, in fact, born and raised
in India, where my father [Jules Cran] was leader of the Bombay
Symphonic Orchestra [funded by Mehli Mehta, father of Zubin]. I was
learning violin at the Conservatorium, but my first engagement with
jazz musicians was at the Taj Mahal with the English Orchestra of Ken
McCarthy [known as Ken Mac] in 1934.
He insisted then on the international and multiracial composition of the professional field of jazz:
It was Rudy Jackson who gave me my first clarinet (in Bombay) and
Roy Butler who gave me my first lessons on tenor sax. My European
origins posed no problems; on the contrary, we were musicians representing one big family of races and colours. Moreover, they were men,
for whom I had, as a young musician, great respect and admiration.
They were charming and simple men. Teddy was a fine fellow, always
sweet and calm. He admired Earl Hines and Fats Waller enormously.
The bulk of the bands programme was based on jazz, with from time
to time, some Negro spirituals, sung by a vocal quartet of Creighton
Thompson, Rudy Jackson, Crickett Smith and Roy Butler (Darke and
Gulliver 1976: 179).
Arguably it is the direct contact between American and European jazzmen

and Anglo-Indian musicians that has helped to spread the practice of jazz
in India.
Roy Butlers orchestra at the Taj Mahal Hotel and the first
Indian jazz bands
World War II, particularly the entry of the United States into the war at the
end of 1941 and the opening of a new front in Asia, accelerated the diffusion
process of jazz in India. In this regard, the most important event is without
question the US decision to evacuate its citizens from India in mid-1942.
Thus, the American Consul in Bombay, Howard Donovan, sent on 6 July
1942 (as evidenced by a letter received by Roy Butler) to all registered US
citizens a circular urging them, while there is an opportunity to do so to
134
quickly return to the United States.7 Most musicians then left, but there was
still a need for entertainment, especially for the thousands of Allied soldiers
stationed in India and particularly in Calcutta, where a huge camp was set
up in the south of the city, on the shores of Dhakuria Lake. Roy Butler was
one of those who chose not to leave:
I foolishly chose to stay. I returned to the Taj Mahal Hotel, formed a
band of Indians, and played a season at Greens Hotel, which was
located next to the Taj Mahal Hotel and owned by them. My short
stretch as a bandleader in India was not too earth-shaking. For one
thing, I had only Indian musicians to work with, all the Americans
having departed, and the local musicians were not too familiar with
jazz at that time. I understand that there are some very good jazzmen
out there now, but the time was too short for anything to develop,
good or bad. I rejoined Teddy in early 1943 (Darke and Gulliver 1977:
18889).
Roy Butlers band in late 1942 was composed of Johnny Gomes, who
was part of the Rhumba Boys, the female singer Emerald St Martin, and the
saxophonist Mickey Correa. The latter, born in Mombassa, Kenya, grew up
in Goa and Karachi. Before Bombay, he had already formed his own band
with his brother Alec, the Correas Optimist Band. He was invited in Bombay
to play for All India Radio in 1939 and landed a contract with the orchestra of Beppo di Siati, composed of American, Filipino and European musicians. He also played with Teddy Weatherford, and, after the war, formed
his own orchestra at the Taj, where he played for over twenty years in a row,
a record in the profession. A recognized member of the music scene, he
also played classical music with the Bombay Symphony Orchestra.
1942 is therefore a pivotal year for Indian jazz musicians, as we find
in the Taj and Greens programmes, next to the band of Roy Butler, an
exclusively Indian jazz band, Sonny Lobo and His Nite Club Boys, which
played on Friday and Saturday nights. So, before Micky Correa and His
Swing Orchestra, pianist Sonny Lobo was the first Indian musician to lead
a jazz band. The trumpeter of the group was a genuine star of the Indian
jazz scene: Chic Chocolate, whose real name was Antonio Xavier Vaz
(19161967), who imitated Louis Armstrong with his physique and his way
of playing he gleaned from records, photographs and newspapers. His renditions of Armstrong standards were highly appreciated among jazz enthusiasts. In 1945, he also formed his own band, Chic and His Music Makers,
7. Letter from the American Consulate in Bombay, 6 July 1942, Documents 1 box of
the Roy Butlers Collection, Chicago Public Library.
135
and became a mainstay of the Bombay scene, introducing even dance

music and jazz in Hindi films in the 1950s, including Albella (1951), in which
he plays a small role (Cabral e Sa 1997: 200). Chic played sometimes in
tandem with another Anglo-Indian trumpeter, Chris Perry, whose brother
Joe was a well-known conductor.
Roy Butler and Teddy Weatherford in Calcutta, 19421945

During the war, Calcutta was another theatre of this movement of Indianization of jazz, thanks to the tutelary figure of Teddy Weatherford, himself
married to an Anglo-Indian, Lorna Shorland, a singer who appeared on
stage alongside him, as can be seen on many concert programmes. He led
a band at the Grand Hotel from September 1940. From September 1941,
he began a series of recordings for Columbia, which, if not all classified in
the category of jazz,8 however, allow us, through the list of credited musicians, to have a rather good idea of the magnitude of the Indianization of
jazz during these crucial years.
Thus, the personnel of the orchestra included Bill McDermott from
America, and George Leonardi from France. But we shall notice on trumpet
the Nepali George Banks, who was born Pushkar Bahadur Budhapriti. He
took an American sounding name for the love of jazz and was one of the
key figures of the jazz scene in Calcutta after the war. He was the father of
Louis Banks, one of the leading figures in the Indian musical and jazz scene
after 1970. The Goan Tony Gonsalves played bass. He would later on play
a leading role in the film music industry and was a co-founder of Cine Musicians Association in 1952 to protect the rights of studio musicians.
A young American saxophonist is also credited on some records: Paul
Gonsalves (19201974), who enlisted in the Quartermasters Corps as a
truck driver in Calcutta during the war. He had often played with the group.
He was to join Count Basies orchestra in 1946 after he finished his military service, and later on, the orchestra of Duke Ellington in 1950. He then
played the alto sax, borrowing one from the Services Club when he had to
play. He was to play only tenor sax afterwards. His presence in Calcutta in
1944 is validated by Reuben Solomon and the interviews Roy Butler gave
to Darke and Gulliver in the 1970s. Paul Gonsalves, thanks to his Cape
Verdean origin, and especially his playing and singing Portuguese songs
8. In the compilation of Teddy Weatherfords Indian recording sessions (194145)
Peter Darke did for the Matrix review (no. 107108) in the mid-1970s, some titles are
labelled rumba, some other blues, some vocal (mainly movie songs), one waltz, and one
fox-trot.
136
during his childhood, could easily connect with the Goanese musicians of
Teddy Weatherfords band, to the point that he could be identified as one of
them by an external observer of this truly international and interracial music
scene in Calcutta during the war.
It was around August 1942 that Roy Butler joined Teddy Weatherford in
Calcutta. We find his presence, in September 1942, on Columbia records,
such as One Dozen Roses. Teddy is remembered as someone carefree,
always ready to tell a joke, and as a musician, a pianist who was always
efficient, able to play for hours in the middle of tipsy soldiers and sailors,
with one hand if necessary, when he was given a drink for instance.
Roys presence was thus crucial, both for the cohesion of the group constituted by all the musicians, regular or occasional, and for the musical direction of the jazz band, to the detriment of popular songs. Then, popular pieces
such as Kiss The Boys Goodbye, The Last Time I Saw Paris or In Waikiki,
performed without improvisation, were on the set list of regular evenings for
the troops in the Winter Garden. These songs from American movies had
the preference of the hotel management but also of the HMV studio, so the
recorded titles are not all of great interest to jazz aficionados.
Jack Armitage gave a fairly accurate account of the level of Teddy Weatherfords bands performances in the French magazine La Revue du Jazz:
I had taken four weeks leave in Calcutta I was flattered to find him
flushed with pleasure at the appearance of an old acquaintance and
that he would compose a programme specially for the occasion
This evening was so dazzling I would not hesitate to place him among
the great musicians in jazz. He played all the pieces I asked of him,
including Mr. Freddie Blues, as well as a unique version of Twelfth
Street Rag, which I had never really liked. Not only did he play marvellously solo, but proved himself as a real strength in the rhythm
section. One could feel his enormous power, the solid swing of the
firm left hand lifting the band Most of the time the band worked
out in a room full of British airmen, GIs, both black and white, and
Anglo-Hindus As the leader of the orchestra, Teddy left much to be
desired. Of course, he never had the same musicians, so the ensembles suffered from a serious handicap for all that the brass section
was good and had power.9
In this valuable recollection, one may note the insistence on the multi
racial audience and orchestra, and thus the fact it was unusual at that time,
against the segregationist American policy, and the exclusion of Indians by
the British in the context of the rise of Indian nationalism. This is also why
9. Jack Armitage (19131991) was a British jazz critic for La Revue du Jazz and Jazz
Hot. This excerpt is from Armitage (1950).
137
those years and those places should be regarded as moments of intense

circulation of cultural forms, hitherto compartmentalized between members
of ethnic groups usually separated from each other. This is one reason why
Teddy Weatherford loved India, particularly Calcutta. He used to say as a
joke: We white people are treated well here!
Kitty Walker, of Italian descent, since her parents came from Naples and
established in Calcutta, used to sing with Teddy Weatherfords band and
recorded a few tracks in 1943. She remembered her days with the band at
the Grand, as a happy time when musicians and music lovers from all walks
of life could blend together for the sake of jazz and dance music:
Teddy got a contract and was playing at the Grand Hotel; he had a
big band, three trumpets, three sax, trombones, guitarists, a drummer.
We had a big band. In 1943, I got a contract to sing with him10 The
different places, like the 300 Club, were so select Calcutta was one
of the jiviest places in India You had cabarets from all over, France,
England. You had to be a member, or you could go in with a member,
as a guest.
More importantly, she evaluated the diffusion of jazz culture among Indian
social circles at that time, and not only Anglo-Indians:
Music has the ability of blending people together, from all walks of life;
there were also Indian people, from the upper strata, that also came
onto the musical scene. From that, a lot of the ideas of bands playing
and the attitudes and guidelines of music were implemented into the
Indian music culture, and now you have Indian musicians who play
western music very well.11
The massive presence of Anglo-Indians is a good indicator of the process

of cultural transmission that took place during these critical years. But we
do not believe in the fiction of a suspension of racial tensions because of
war, as this episode demonstrates easily:
One time, there was this American soldierhe must have been a
Southerner. He was standing right in front of the stage and he had
this little black bear with him. Teddy always had a white sharkskin suit
whenever he played, always immaculately dressed. He was smiling
away, playing a solo, looking happy, when, for no reason at all, this
soldier said, Here Teddy, heres your brother! and chucked the bear
at Teddy. Of course, the bear went flying about ten feet through the
air, his claws came out, and he got hold of Teddys sharkskin coat and
10. Kitty Walker is credited on the title Out of This World, with Teddy Weatherford and
His Band, in May 1943 (CoId FB40315). See Darke, Matrix, no. 107108, n. d.
11. Personal interview with Kitty Walker, 1999.
138

tried to climb. He ripped it to shreds and, of course, got a few claw
marks on Teddy. It might have amused a few American fellows there,
but it didnt amuse Teddy, or anyone else. Teddy took it very well. He
wanted to set about this fellow but it wasnt wise (Darke and Gulliver
1976: 18687).
There used to be indifference from the colonial elites, British or comprador, to the local population to levels hardly imaginable, during the great
famine of 1943, which claimed over a million and a half dead. This was the
direct result of wrong decisions taken by the colonial authorities of Bengal
(Arnold 1988). Nevertheless, the circulation of cultural forms continued to
operate within the Indian elite and Anglo-Indian musicians, who gradually came to dominate the population in certain areas of the entertainment
industry and jazz music scene.
Thus, from late 1942 to early 1944, Teddy Weatherford and Reuben
Solomon continued to record pieces for Columbia, mostly songs from
American musicals designed to make people forget the hardships of war
and to enhance soldiers morale. The meeting of two orchestras gave birth
on certain occasions to the All Star Swing Band, who recorded eight songs,
including One Dozen Roses in September 1942. But this did not prevent
Weatherford from playing some more ambitious piano solos, from a jazz
point of view, thanks to the support of Roy Butler, such as the series led by
Sinclair Traill: the latter was an eminent jazz enthusiast, becoming editor
of the famous Jazz Journal in 1948. In wartime service in the RAF, he conducted the session in which Weatherford recorded in August 1942 Basin
Street Blues, Memphis Blues and St Louis Blues.
At that time, in addition to visiting musicians, new Indian musicians
came onto the jazz scene and took some sort of crash course at the Grand.
As for overnight guests, we find, including on recordings, presented as
an American musician, Bob Lee of the US Air Force, who recorded with
the orchestra several popular songs such as So Long Sarah Jane, Blue
Rain, and Hello America, Hello with the Hutson Sisters, a local imitation
of the famous Andrews Sisters. Bob Lee, a pseudonym of the famous Bob
Merrill (19211998), cut some records with Teddy Weatherford in Calcutta
between January 1944 and January 1945.
Roy Butler, meanwhile, left Calcutta in October 1944 after another, particularly intense, Japanese bombing on the city had made him decide to
take the first boat bound for the United States. The last session of recordings known with Teddy Weatherford and the rest of his band was held with
Bob Lee in January 1945, this time not for Columbia but for HMV. These
pieces are popular songs, such as Together, When Irish Eyes Are Smiling
139
and Make Way For Tomorrow. A few weeks later, Teddy Weatherford contracted cholera in the hotel and died in less than forty-eight hours at the
Presidency General Hospital, on 25 April 1945 at the age of forty-one. He
was an early victim of the epidemic, probably spread by rats. The army
forbade its men to drink anything in town. Teddy Weatherfords disappearance marked the end of a very rich period in overseas jazz history, characterized by the transmission of this cultural form through Anglo-Indian
musicians in contact with excellent European and American musicians. The
war had thus constituted a watershed in the Indianization of jazz.
Conclusion
The development of jazz in India has been quite incomplete, since jazz
circulated firstly among the marginal Anglo-Indian community. This characterization of the story of jazz in India lies in the ambivalence of jazz: as
a western popular music, jazz remains associated with colonial rule and
foreign cultural domination, a nostalgia that strongly infuses Anglo-Indian
culture. Because of the racial division of popular music the British produced,
the Anglo-Indians, as the musical marginal men, played a major role in the
acclimatization of this musical form in India. They were the first and only
Indian actors in the development and circulation of jazz until World War II.
There is a paradox of the globalization era: it has revived the legitimacy
of the story of jazz in India (Fernandes 2011), because of its historical depth,
which proved that the links between Indian and American cultures were tied
very early. Thanks to the international connexions of the jazz worlds and
the hybridization of musical forms, there is even a form of national pride to
claim a re-assessment of Indian participation, even if small, in the global
jazz tradition. Jazz is then not only conceived as an Anglo-Indian heritage
after Independence, but as a popular music that connects India and the
West, even if the Indianization process of jazz has not been complete, or
even gone as far as it did in other places, such as South America or France.
But this claim of legitimacy is rooted in its colonial past, and, therefore, is a
mixture of nostalgia, ambivalence and cultural pride.
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[JRJ 4.2 (2010) 141-170]

doi:10.1558/jazz.v4i2.141

Jazz in Kuala Lumpur

Gisa Jhnichen1
Professor of Ethnomusicology/Comparative Musicology and Audiovisual Media, Universiti
Putra Malaysia
gisajaehnichen@web.de
Abstract
This article will focus on the development from doing to making jazz in Malaysias main
urban centre Kuala Lumpur. Doing jazz is here understood as doing what the others
do, a practice of creating musical equality with existing practices that are considered
up-to-date in a small world of self-taught jazz musicians of which some were trained
abroad. Making jazz goes far beyond this understanding. It aims at creating difference
and uniqueness in a conscious way, using individual resources related to local culture
and history. However, the polarity between imitative and original has many facets resulting from ethnic, religious and social contradictions within the cultural construction of
Malaysia. From this perspective, the role of different racial backgrounds and knowledge
bases of various audiences and of jazz personalities, together with their self-perception,
needs to be examined. Based on a brief outline of the social background and a concise
historical overview, questions of shifting identity as well as of musicianship in the specific
urban culture of Kuala Lumpur will be raised and discussed. Does the new generation,
facing hegemonic representation, develop racially indifferent attitudes towards jazz or
does it aspire to contribute a self-determined individuality, accepting the blurring of
borders between global jazz and Southeast Asian popular music?
Keywords: constructed identity; local jazz; Malaysia; popular music; urban culture
Introduction
Local jazz scenes in Southeast Asia are well discussed in internet blogs
and among insiders travelling throughout the region. In Malaysia, this
apparent interesting scene does not reflect the deep conflicts caused
through unpredictably changing directions in cultural politics and resulting
relationships between jazz musicians and their audiences. It is important to
1. Prof. Dr. Gisa Jhnichen obtained her Magister (Bachelor & Master) in Musicology
and Regional Studies on South East Asia from Charles University Prague, PhD in Musicology from Humboldt University Berlin (Germany), and completed her University lecturer
thesis (Habilitation) in Comparative Musicology at University Vienna (Austria). She is
currently Professor in Musicology at Universiti Putra Malaysia and also regularly teaching
at the Humboldt Universitys Research Centre for Popular Music.
142
know that in a country like Malaysia, where ethnic background, religion and
social status are very closely related to each other, the mixture of ethnicities appears very differently in public perception than in countries without
such strong congruencies such as Australia or any European country.
With Malaysians, small talk starts with, Where are you from? and, Do you
believe in God? These are essential questions, which decide ones future
attitude to the person questioned. Everyone is put automatically into a box
from which it becomes hard to escape. This paper tries to explain the development of a creative art in a fast emerging urban space characterized by
these underlying conditions of cultural communication.
Based on an overview about the history of jazz as a musical practice
in Malaysia and its varying perception seen from the perspective of differently composed audiences in Kuala Lumpur, this article will focus on
the development from doing to making jazz in Malaysias main urban
centre. Doing jazz is here understood as doing what the others do, a
practice of creating musical equality with existing practices that are considered up-to-date in a small world of jazz musicians trained abroad. Making
jazz goes far beyond this understanding. It aims at creating difference and
uniqueness in a conscious way, using individual resources related to local
culture and history. However, the polarity between slavishly imitative and
strikingly original (Atkins 2001; Molasky 2003) has many facets resulting
from ethnic, religious and social contradictions within the cultural construction of Malaysia.
Finally, this article may help to find out if the new generation, facing
hegemonic representation, develops racially indifferent attitudes towards
jazz or if it aspires to contribute a self-determined individuality, accepting
the blurring of borders between global jazz and Southeast Asian popular
music.
Social background
Malaysia, as one of the most modernized of Southeast Asian nations,
has at least one important social and cultural distinction which should
be mentioned: all ethnic Malays in Malaysia (50% of the population) are
Muslim by law, in accordance with article 160 of the countrys constitution.
Malays cannot officially convert to any other religion within the country.
Chinese, Indians, and some other ethnic groups,2 do not have completely
2. Except non-Malay bumiputra (Malay: sons of the soil)living mostly in East Malaysia and considered indigenous.
143
the same rights as citizens, although they are born in Malaysia and are
considered Malaysian. Among these groups, only a minority practices
Islam. Most Chinese are Buddhist, Taoist or Christian, while Indians are, to
a great extent, Hindu. Through a strict quota system and a range of other
privileges, Malays receive preferential treatment. Yet, because social and
economic concerns are not excessively affected, different ethnic groups
coexist peaceably together. Nevertheless, Islam is so ingrained in Malay life
that Islamic rituals are practised as Malay culture. The terms Muslim and
Malay are interchangeable in many daily contexts.
Considering the religious polarity among the Malay, Chinese and Indian
populations and applying it to musical life, it can be said that a musician
doing jazz and being Malay is a challenge that differs a lot from that of
Muslim musicians in the United States during the 1940s.
Ethical views on music and its effects, which draw upon current Islamic
teaching in Malaysia, derive from the Madhhab of Imam Al-Shafii,3 especially explained by Imam Al Ghazali (10581111 ad). He questioned the
usefulness of music and singing in general and he is still one of the unchallenged authorities upheld by learned men. Orthodox Muslims, therefore,
should consider all issues, above all, if music merely serves fanciful
desires (huzuz) (Al-Ghazali 2009: 108). In the case of playing jazz, there
would seem to be no justification. While in the States, jazz musicians, for
very different personal reasons, converted to Islam (Gillespie and Fraser
1979: 291) from their own free will, Malays in Malaysia do not have such
a choice. Even though music, especially music for entertainment, is an
issue discussed in all predominantly Muslim countries, most nationally
promoted musicians, including jazz musicians, are Malays.
The congruency of race and religion together with a state policy derived
from the Quran, the Sunna, Muslim history and sometimes elements of political movements outside Islam causes tension not only among non-Muslim
Malaysians but also between diverse groups of Malays, especially among
those who were studying or living abroad and who frequently travel to other
parts of the world, such as businessmen, scientists and artists.
Discussion amongst Malay political leaders, drawing from their experience of interaction with important state partners such as the United
Kingdom, the United States and Australia, has resulted in a changed perception of internal differences between Muslims and brought about a partial
rethinking of domestic policies (Leong 2010).
3. School of law in Islam. In Malaysia, the Sunni Islam applies the Madhhab of Imam
Muhammad ibn Idris Al-Shafii (d. 820 ad).
144
An example of this rethinking is the recent, costly propaganda campaign called One Malaysia, which emphasized a racially united nation
and suggests that the inequality of citizens rights should be seen as a
minor cultural difference. Nevertheless, steps taken such as holding joint
cultural parades to achieve better mutual understanding are doomed to
failure from lack of credibility (Yousof 2009). The representation of cultural
diversity turns out mainly to follow the rules set by the government during
the National Cultural Congress held at the University of Malaya from 16-20
August 1971. These rules define national Malaysian culture as:
(i) Malaysias culture must be based on the indigenous culture of this
region. (ii) Elements of other cultures which are suitable and appropriate can be incorporated into the national culture. (iii) Islam will be the
most important element in the formation of national culture. (Mohd
Affandi Hassan 1973: vii; translated by Philip 2003: 40).
Thus, state events, such as the yearly celebration of Merdeka Day,4 might
display dancers in Malay blouses, Indian trousers, waving Chinese fans and
marching with military precision to the music of an overblown studio production of electro-pop music. An artificially constructed identity that only permits suitable and appropriate incorporation of non-Malay elements is, to the
majority of performing artists, an unacceptable provision (DCruz 2011).
Moreover, the target audience would seem to be a minority of progressive Malays rather than those diverse groups invited to feel included in the
cultural mainstream after decades during which their contributions to the
nations development had not been recognized. In a study of Malaysian
playwrights working in the English language, Philips brings this issue into
focus as follows:
Post-independence Malaysia, originally imagined as a Malay nation,
had to confront the complex issue of including other, diverse races and
cultures into the nation, and somehow finding and creating a shared
culture. Malaysias national identity, then, is performativedeliberately
produced, for a particular social purpose. Since none of the various
racial groups brought together by colonial labour policies actually had
a culture in common, one had to be performatively produced (Philip
2003: 40).
With respect to the matter of musical performances, and especially of jazz,

the only common feature shared is the importation of culture. Moreover,
4. 31 August, Independence Day, commemorating the independence of the Federation of Malaya from British colonial rule in 1957.
145
cultural importation with the avowed aim of adaptation and integration into
the local context is a process that necessarily needs to involve discussion and negotiation among the diverse groups involved. It may well be
that post-independence Malaysias colonial history and its nation-building
policies will prove a serious obstacle to achieving a representative shared
culture.
DCruz, a well-known dancer, cultural educator and theatre manager
in Kuala Lumpur, explains the sort of thinking and lack of moral courage
among Malaysians which discourages criticism of the constructed national
identity as follows:
We're cowards because our education system has not made us brave,
has not made us thinkers, has not made us critical, has not made
us reflective, has not made us question. So, you can't blame us. You
look at my students; you can't blame them because the system has
succeeded in lobotomising them. I've said this many times before.
The system really lobotomises students and makes them believe that
at the end of the day, the most important thing about everything in
this country is peace. And you do whatever you can to get peace.
And they believe that if they question, and they start thinking, there
will be no peace! It's a ridiculous equation. There will be trouble! So,
in that sense, the system is very successful So, back to this thing
about courage. The only courageous people in this country, really, are
the Malays. And that is a very small percentage of Malays. So, forget
about the Chinese and Indians. There are a few but as a nation, are we
a courageous people? No! (Surin 2006).
On the situation in Malaysia, Ooi has this to say. He sees:

Ethnic bargaining as a necessity, nation-state rationale as a source of
social knowledge, modernization as mankinds unavoidable fate and
western concepts as natural tools of thought (Ooi 2003: 162).
The eclectic set of principles arising from the situation described above
and from its application to urban musical life contributes to the difficulties in
developing a creative space for the performing arts. Hence, the existence
of a silent tension is an important topic on the art scene, jazz included.
Kuala Lumpur, the huge, noisy capital of Malaysia, is one of the places
where jazz is frequently played. However, it is the common view of not a
few urban Malays, not personally related to the music scene, that jazz is the
music of a disreputable class, owing to its association with smokers, wine
drinkers and womanisers; it is, therefore, seen by many as haram5 (Tan
5. Sinful, legally forbidden by Islamic law (also haraam).
146
2010). The internet channel, Radio Islam Nusantara (Radio Programme of

Muslims in Southeast Asia), is promoted as featuring no music, nasyid6 or
advertisements. Internet blogs discuss questions such as Is listening to
jazz haram?7 Even university lecturers in non-music fields have a prejudice
against this jazz thing and tolerate it only on cultural grounds as a kind of
business.8 Jazz venues nurture their subversive image through playing with
symbols of that dislike. So, private venues regularly offer the best house
wine in promoting a jazz performance.9 The association of jazz and smoking
was established during the years of the early film industry, especially in
American movies (Cotrell 2004). This proved to have a long-lasting effect.10
The slow development towards a slightly more liberal view by Malay
state authorities towards supposedly subversive cultural activities is shown
by the fact that jazz is taught at nearly all state and private universities with a
music department or a faculty for performing arts as well as at the National
School for Arts, Aswara. The government is aware of the role of jazz as part
of a metropolitan culture with global standards; jazz is kept under control
through official support of cultural events in terms of non-intervention and
generosity in allocating work permits11 for musicians from abroad. The three
great jazz festivals of Malaysia in Penang, Miri and Kota Kinabalu can be
seen as products of this political approach. The main supporters are state
institutions such as public media, tourist authorities, the Arts Foundation,
embassies and local companies (Augustin 2011).
6. Nasyid (also nasyeed) derives from the Arab term Anasheed that refers to Islamic
vocal music that might be accompanied by percussion only.
7. See http://www.ihav.net/vb/music/music-jazz-particular-haram-makruff-2267
78.html and others. Jazz musicians as well as other musicians face similar problems
on music festivals in South Africa (VOC) and other places; see http://vocfm.co.za/index.
p h p ? o p t i o n = c o m _ k 2 & v i e w = i t e m & i d = 1 6 1 3 : e n t e r t a i n m e n t- s t i l l - a - d i l e m m a
&Itemid=131. Muslim societies in the Near East can provide substantial support for
jazz, as for example in Morocco, Syria or Egypt.
8. Marof and Laily (2010).
9. See advertisements of Alexis Bistro and No Black Tie, two important jazz
venues, on diverse websites http://www.nerofico.com/, http://www.alexis.com.my/html/
promotions.html, or http://www.facebook.com/noblacktie#!/photo.php?fbid=101509191
73040223&set=pu.297162115222&type=1&theater.
10. After 1969, many cinemas in and around Kuala Lumpur were shut down in conjunction with the changed state ideology (see section Historical background, below) and
the upcoming popularity of television programmes. People turned away from this kind of
entertainment for at least two decades, thus keeping in memory American cinema movies
that were screened before the 1970s.
11. Musicians, even though hired for only one night, need a valid work permit issued
by the Malaysian Immigration Authority.
147
Historical background
The history of jazz in Kuala Lumpur (KL) is closely connected to the beginning of globalizationthe modern era of economic rather than territorial
expansion which was due partly to the British administration of the first half
of the twentieth century and to some extent to regional developments in
Southeast Asia such as the regrouping of colonial interests from exploiting
natural resources to the comparative industrialization of dominantly urban
areas.12 King describes this period from the perspective of architecture:
The 1920s and 1930s were the era of the Jazz Age Art Deco style of
European and North American derivation, with its clean lines and typically geometric decoration. Art Deco became the style of commercial,
Chinese KL (King 2008: 11).
Jazz was initially associated with a certain independence of thinking, with

modernism, or, rather, with anti-traditionalism. King has this to say about
the tangible elements of culture:
Alongside the rise of radicalism and a sense of racial identity in both
Malay and Chinese communities, there was also a quite literally rising
display of capital The Oriental Building of 1939 linked the style to
the new medium of radio broadcasting, with its emblematic transmission tower of Radio Malaya. There was also the elegant Anglo-Oriental
building or Wisma Ekran of 193640 and a proliferation of mansions of
the newly rich Chinese. It was the Jazz Age (King 2008: 61).
The first jazz musicians in Malaysia came from the Philippines such as the
Soliano family (Salleh 2011). In the 1920s, musicians from the Philippines
spread all over Asia, especially into large urban areas such as Shanghai
(Jones 2003) and Saigon (Jhnichen 2008: 90112). They were employed
by diverse music institutions, especially in Bangsawan, a form of modernized Malay music theatre that was widely performed in urban areas.
In the 1930s, Bangsawan bands consisted of a mix of Indian, Western,
Latin American, and indigenous Malay instruments (Tan 1997). The brass
section played various jazz titles as so-called extra-turns. When Bangsawan declined in the early 1960s, Philippine jazz musicians joined the
national broadcasting company RTM and formed the first group of professionals to play jazz.
However, local live performances, especially by bands travelling throughout Malaya, played a far more important role in making jazz during the
12. Despite the new technologies that were available, cheap labour and shorter trading
distances within the region were some of the main reasons for fast industrialization.
148
1940s and 1950s. Matusky and Tan describe the incorporation of keroncong elements13 into jazz which had an influence on further preferences
among the Malay audience:
Although a standard instrumentation [of traditional jazz] may be documented, exceptions were made and other instruments could be used.
At times the mandolin or a second ukelele would replace the banjo.
Other instruments such as the accordion might be added to play the
melody. In the 1940s and 50s, the big bands of jazz and swing that
consisted of trumpet, trombone, clarinet, piano and double bass were
used to play sub-styles known as rumba keroncong, and the slowfox
and tango keroncong. Today the synthesizer often replaces instruments such as the violin, cello, double bass, cak and cuk (Matusky
and Tan 2003: 344).
In the history of Malaysian culture, P. Ramlee (19291973)14 was an outstanding early champion of a growing tolerance for entertainment music
with a national emphasis. Kahn notes:
The influences on the most popular Malay singer musician of the
modern period, P. Ramlee, were in no sense purely indigenous to
Malaya. Instead, Ramlee was heavily influenced by Latin and American
jazz (Kahn 2003: 156).
P. Ramlees contribution to the development of jazz in Malaysia, especially

in Kuala Lumpur, has yet to be thoroughly studied. His rich musical experiences, among others with jazz, playing saxophone in some local swing
bands, as well as his vocal capability, turned him into a national idol. In
P. Ramlees work as film director for the Shaw Brothers in Singapore, he
redresses the purely entertaining meaning of Malay films and seriously
comments on Malay society in times of modernization and decolonization (Barnard 2006: 165). However, one of his greatest strengths was his
incontestable authority in the world of Malay performing arts. Musicians
could reference his work when introducing American music into various
entertainment contexts thereby avoiding ethical controversies over religious issues.
13. Keroncong, as quoted here, means an urbanized orchestra type of Indonesian
cities, in which two small lute instruments once brought along by Portuguese seafarers,
nowadays an ukulele and a three-string banjuke, in earlier days called cak and cuk, are
used to produce interlocking rhythmic structures that characterize the orchestral sound.
This sound refers strongly to local music tastes of urban Malays.
14. His real name was Teuku Zakaria bin Teuku Nyak Puteh. The name P. Ramlee is
his artist name under which he became famous. The abbreviated letter P refers to his
fathers name Puteh; however, P is never read as Puteh.
149
The period immediately following World War II was characterized by the

introduction of modern media such as multiple broadcasting programmes
and local film productions, and, as a result of the resistance against the
Japanese occupation, a heavy migration into urban areas. After independence in 1957, there was a boom in western music as a symbol of modernity; jazz clubs and cinemas opened and a public scene established. This
trend lasted until the reaction towards regional as well as international
policy against overseas Chinese. This reaction climaxed in the riots against
Malaysian Chinese in May 1969, followed by a strong trend towards Islamic
fundamentalism in line with developments in Iran and Brunei (Kua 2008:
3940; Hwang 2003: 31). Subsequently, especially after the National Cultural Congress held at University Malaya, the earlier modest cosmopolitanism of Kuala Lumpurs art scene became invisible and inaudible. Musicians
as well as audiences had to rework their orientation and expectation in order
to find a new safe place in the urban community and to avoid tension.
Before that break in development, jazz was an accepted part of public
musical life. In the 1960s, many jazz musicians came from the United States,
attracted by interesting exchange programmes or promising careers. Charlie
Mariano, for example, was sent through an intergovernmental exchange
programme, financed by the US government, to coach the Malaysian radio
and television orchestra in Kuala Lumpur for five months in the second half
of 1967. Here, he got in contact with open-minded Indian musicians who
taught him how to play the Indian oboe, the nadaswaram (Carr, Fairweather
and Priestley 2004: 506; Wooley 1999: 7).
The radical nature of changes after 1969 forced many liberal artists
into the background. The adoption of Al-Ghazalis doctrines as well as
an imposed Malay authority in cultural affairs restricted vast areas of
public education and performance activities. Music promoting the ideals
of Tuhan, Negara, Bangsa15 that go back to P. Ramlees songs and music
performances in movies marketed by the Shaw Brothers in Singapore, led
to further polarization. Much later, racially divisive music genres such as
nasyidfor example, the groups Raihan or Huda in the 1990sprovided
idealized entertainment music for their Malay religious clientele. Although
the appearance of nasyid was based strongly on Anglo-American boy and
girl band models dating from the 1980s, the lyrics suited the taste of middle-class Malays and was broadly accepted (Zawawi 1995). Since that time,
a revitalization of the deserted creative space for jazz could be realized only
15. God, Country, Race is a slogan describing primary ideals among Malay communities. In Malaysia, the fourth ideal Citizens (Rakyat) is rarely mentioned in this context.
150
with the help of the primary popular music business and the cultural service
industry.
Jazz worlds in Kuala Lumpur

To further understand the directions jazz took in its development during the
last decade, we have to look at real worlds of jazz from two perspectives:
(1) as one performance style among many others and (2) as the imagination of a special music practice requiring unique musical thinking seen from
the viewpoint of the musicians.
The Orkestra RTM, the first orchestra in Malaysia founded in 1961, which
once pioneered jazz, states after a long period of stagnation between the
1970s and the beginning of the twenty-first century (Salleh 2011) in 2008:
RTM Orkestra and its friends with strong backing from the Minister of
Information, Tan Sri Ghazali Shafie, were all fervent jazz supporters who
wrote songs in the jazz idiom, as well as playing and broadcasting
Malaysian jazz music. Jazz reached its pinnacle of popularity from the
60s to the mid 70s. Despite the temporary retreat in the last decades
giving way to other genres such as rock, rap, and hip-hop, Malaysian
jazz music can make a comeback through big band format. Orkestra
RTM is tasked with the responsibility to produce entertainment programs for broadcasting purposes. Therefore, it is rightfully the most
suitable candidate to produce, perform and promote original Malaysian
songs in the style of jazz. When original Malaysian songs are presented
in the common jazz idiom, it can create another effective means of promoting Malaysian music in the international arena (Official Orkestra
RTM website, http://www.orkestrartm.my/jazztribute2008, accessed 28
January 2011; website contract finished on 1 May 2011, partly continued with http://www.rtm.gov.my/orkestrartm/index.php?option=com_c
ontent&view=article&id=19&Itemid=27).
Here we face one characteristic issue for understanding jazz. Far from its
place of origin, in Malaysia, jazz seems to have become an idiom, a style,
something which does not have any historical meaning or innate characteristics. Thus, any song from the rich Malay balladry could be transposed into
that idiom. The exchange of musical values that is only possible through
amalgamating different musical structures and production techniques
does not take place. Following this argument, many interesting observations have been made in recent times. The official website of Orkestra RTM
further proclaims:
Back in the home front, jazz music is very much appreciated in the elite
society. It is very popular in weddings, functions, shopping complexes
and entertainment outlets. Original Malaysian compositions will now
have a shared platform, international and nationwide.
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Before that, jazz of any kind had to fight for many years against an ignorance
of its unique musical qualities among leading representatives of cultural
policy (Hwang 2003: 249) that could not even reach that low level of understanding represented in the Orkestra RTMs official website created in 2008.
Jazz seen as a genre apart from pop music culture has undergone a slow
recovery under the control of officially recognized organizations and sanctioned venues. RTM regularly broadcasted jazz standards played by local
musicians and propagated a new style of consumerism as a total package.
The new image of jazz might be called intellectualism and appeared in a
stylish new design that combined the ambience of an upper middle-class
evenings entertainment with that of a country club (Salleh 2011). Outside of
broadcasting, jazz turned slowly away from its idiom-like image. Jazz played
in dedicated jazz venues became an instrument of opposition to the jazzy
processing of romantic songs16 in fixed pop song compositions, favoured
by a slightly open-minded Malay audience, mistakenly considered to be jazz
standards. Today, there are seven small venues in a city with nearly four million
inhabitants (including Subang Jaya and Petaling Jaya). This may not seem
to be a great number but the jazz scene is very important to different groups
of the population. The subversive image of jazz has been re-fashioned and
given a progressive aura as jazz venues attract intellectuals and the curious
from among the young of the upper-middle class, a class destined to be the
next generation of Malaysias economic decision-makers.
From the perspective of the musicians it has to be said that there is
hardly a single so-called jazz musician who is exclusively doing jazz.
Jazz is one of many styles they play and they may perceive their musical
activities as different musical choices that change according to the actual
situation in the music market. The difference from other jazz musicians in
some parts of the world who are working in completely different fields might
be that these multiple employed musicians in Malaysia see jazz as being
in one comparative line with classical or popular music. They switch style
(Salleh 2011) without much reflection on musically represented meanings.
Evelyn Hii, owner of the jazz venue No Black Tie in the centre of Kuala
Lumpur, summarizes in an interview with Elain Lau her thoughts about jazz
musicianship in the city:
Their curiosity is curbed. You can invite them for a gig, and you find
that they play the same in different gigs, different combinations. Its
already stuck in their minds that every time they have to do a solo,
16. Using big band instrumentation or having a saxophone solo or adopting traditional ornamentation in the melodic outline as blue notes.
152

this is the way theyre going to play. And it doesnt work. So they
stop developing their hearing and because they dont practise, their
muscles are only able to go one way, and so its just on automatic
pilot. For jazz, its a no-noyou have no more spontaneity, no interaction, and there is no sensitivity (Lau 2011).
One of many reasons for this might be the historically synchronous emergence of all styles of western music in the shape of media items between
the two World Wars. Whatever music was aired, it came out of the same
radio set or the same gramophone, which caused a levelling of meaning
seen from the perspective of jazz doers and musically open minded audiences, thus reducing historically and socially differentiated music worlds to
a question of taste and fashion. In a few cases, jazz was first understood
to be trumpets and trombones (Tan 1997: 77) which may suggest simply
the perception of different sounds instead of a specific genre or a particular
performance practice. As Atkins remarks with reference to Japan in the late
1920s,
Jazz, along with American movies, fashions, and professional sports,
evoked a new ethos of carefree cosmopolitanism, playful subversion,
and erotic grotesque nonsense (Atkins 2001: 46).
The idea that jazz is just one of many offers creating an early mass market is
still working. Therefore, jazz in Kuala Lumpur cannot be understood entirely
without reviewing the development of popular music. In the case of Japan,
Atkins also underlines that as a commercial product, popular music such
as jazz helped transform Japanese society into a mass consumer culture
(Atkins 2001:46). Perhaps, this applied to urban culture in Malaysia as well.
However, the main difference between Japan and Malaysia is the inconsistence of jazz spaces in terms of racially divided audiences. How this division
might be overcome is the subject of the next section.
The erosion of conservative entertainment

In present-day Kuala Lumpur, jazz could only become emancipated from
its function as a kind of styling tool through conscious diversification of and
live interaction with audiences. Yet in 2008, King analyses Kuala Lumpur
and says that
Malaysia is often seen as a racist society, with the spaces of the city
reflecting that racism and contributing strongly to its perpetuation
but also, and simultaneously, to its erosion [There is] a culture of
suspicion, a seeming product of the race issue. Present KL is a city of
surveillance, unease and anxiety (King 2008: 57).
153
How can musicians of any genre find a position, a creative space to develop
a differentiated approach to various performing arts in this atmosphere
of hidden needs? Though King sees the situation from his intellectually
responsive perspectivehe might have given a hint: erosion.
In the following section, two options of erosion will be discussed: One is
the division of urban vocal entertainment into (1) music performances focusing on conservative romantic balladry that incorporates jazz elements as an
enrichment of pop music compositions and into (2) music performances of
songwriters who strictly oppose national sentimentality and romanticism in
their song lyrics. The other option is the establishment of instrumental jazz
in conjunction with the singer-songwriter movement thus dividing the entertainment repertoire according to music genres for a shared audience. The
eroding effect of instrumental jazz becomes obvious through a closer look
at the current role of Malay pop and the karaoke phenomenon associated
with popular music performances.
Dividing of musical meanings: songs and

instrumental jazz
Many groups operate with interchangeable performers andthis seems to
be a special featurethey integrate, in a symbolic way, performers of different ethnic backgrounds. In order to avoid ethnic and religious labelling that
may lead to a confusion of the audiences consent, the group structure has
to be well considered with respect to ethnicity, which impliesin the case
of Malaysiareligious diversity as well.17 One of the pioneers is Rafique
Rashid, a so-called penyanyi puisi, a poetry singer.18 He was also named
an avant-garde dissenter (see Lockard 1998: 252). His song lyrics and the
straight way of expressing concerns musically through using a wide range of
musical styles were appealingly new to an urban audience that searched for
some intellectual diversion. He performed with indigenous musicians such
as the Temuan ceremonial singer, Minah Angong (19301999) and founded
the first Malaysian ethnic fusion group, Akar Umbi. Rafique Rashid, as well
17. If bands search for a replacement or somebody to enrich their ensemble, they
do not simply search, for example, one bassist; they often search one bassist (Malay
or other), which means that the bassist should not be a Chinese or Indian. Otheras a
race category printed on each ID cardsummarizes all those who do not belong to the
three large ethnic groups.
18. In this context, the Malay term carries a pejorative connotation. It is normally used
for a traditional singer accompanied by a folk band. If applied to modern music styles, the
musicians are downgraded to traditional noisemakers.
154
as his colleagues Meor Aziddin Yusof and the younger Pete Teo, Jerome
Kugan, Shelley Leong, Shanon Shah, Azmyl Yunor or Tan Sei Hon, did not
emulate American jazz. They did not do jazz at all, though they applied some
jazz elements in their song structures. Instead, they introduced songs with
lyrics in English, Malay or Chinese which draw on various Western/American vocal forms but were very much related to the daily life and cultural
attitudes of a mixed urban audience.19 As a result, the audience directed its
attention to these vocal performances rather than to performances of other
groups playing jazz that use imported jazz lyrics or song lyrics of romantic
Malay ballads, that remained largely unchanged.
Musicians like Rafique Rashid paved the way for non-vocal jazz, which
often appeared on a shared stage and was played by a small jazz band
in conjunction with their song performances. In this context, the attractive
nature of the new songs liberated jazz performances from the expectation
of being vocal entertainment music. Thus, the singer-songwriter scene was
closely connected to the development of a new jazz generation that also
found a new audience. Another shared feature was the method of promotion. Matusky and Tan write:
The availability of tape cassettes provided a new means for the distribution of songs, especially the underground ones. Hang Mokhtar
and Rampa incorporated comments on poverty, corruption and even
complaints against the government in their lyrics. Songs that made
a parody of the problems in Malaysian society such as excessive
drinking, gambling, motorbike racing, womanizing, and the plight of
taxi drivers were composed (Matusky and Tan 2003: 408).
Before the 1990s, instrumental jazz was promoted in a quite similar way
by distributing self-made music cassettes recorded during performances
(Tan 2010; Salleh 2011). Despite attracting the suspicion of cultural authorities for using all kinds of musical instruments,20 the musicians state
clearly their independence from recording companies. Their recordings
were funded by themselves. The musicians belong to the musical fringe
like the singer-songwriters and they retained artistic control over their
products.
19. These songs have their historical forerunners in traditional entertainment such as
storytelling or music drama with critical sketches and intermediate songs.
20. The use of musical instruments is another issue discussed among the learned
men of Islam using the madhhab of Shafii. According to it, sound without words means
a support of low instincts such as arousing desire and aiming at encouraging sinful acts
(Al-Ghazali 2009) without understanding of meanings.
155
Jazz played in this context expressed everything musically in terms of

being independent from song lyrics as carriers of merely verbally understood messages. Pure instrumental music emphasized a new thinking
about jazz in Malaysia, which offered a definition of the genre beyond song
in the jazz idiom (Salleh 2011) and movie soundtracks, as was partly the
case in the late 1950s and 1960s.
The special relation between the musical demands of jazz and its
non-vocal appearance in Malaysia has primarily cultural reasons. In the
history of the popular music of Malaysia, songs are the domain of romantic
pop rather than lyrics performed in the context of demanding jazz arrangements. Songs, which come with lyrics, need to reach a mass audience. They
have to be wrapped up with something that suits the taste of the masses
and can be reproduced easily by simple means. The karaoke business
especially profits from the high reputation of pop songs as representative
of Malay national feeling. Andrea Mann, a British jazz singer who worked for
some months in a Penang jazz club in 2008, mentions how:
A phrase which has been said to me a number of times: Jazz in Malaysialike many places in the West, in factis loved by a passionate,
underground few. Or to put it another way: Malaysians like their pop.
Theres live music a-plenty on the small island of Penang; but it takes
the form of a pop covers band playing in a bar, or a cocktail pianist
playing Every Song Known To Man in a hotel lobby. By going on stage
every night and performing jazz, in a jazz club, I feel not unlike the
hero of Footloose. Only with slightly fewer moves (Mann 2008).
Therefore, although not all jazz titles are generally considered to be

instrumental jazz, many performances are dominated by instrumentals.
Jazz singers are not as frequent as in other regions of the world. They are
mostly imported from abroad or borrowed from other genres such as classical or pop music and work just for a few gigs. However, their versatility in
singing jazz is limited to a few very well-known standards.
Local translations of jazz performances

Connected to the problem of jazz as vocal entertainment is the understanding of interaction on stage in jazz performance. Lacking a consciously
developed jazz club culture, the conventions of typical jam sessions are
unknown. To most guest musicians or singers being called by request onto
the stage means, for the moment, their usually virtual karaoke being turned
into reality. Basically, they expect to be supported by the band and expect to
play the solo part while all the time being applauded by the crowd, regardless of their musical input. Mann gives the following example:
156

The bar manager took me to one side on one of my first nights, after
Id allowed a local, elderly jazz singer to do one number, and a local
tenor sax player to join us for the final set. It turns out that in Malaysia there isnt really the concept of sitting in (probably because
there isnt really the concept of jazz). What there is, however,
is the concept of karaoke, which is hugely popular over here and
almost as popular as Michael Bubl, in fact. So the manager had
confused what Id done with allowing any old hotel guest to take to
the stage. Apparently its very hard to wrestle the microphone away
from a Malaysian once theyve got it, and some clubs even have a
No Guest Singers sign next to the bandstand to prevent such an
event from occurring (Mann 2008).
In the local karaoke culture that replaced, over decades, equally interactive music making in a real setting, the question of which title will be
performed is less important than the question of who will perform the
next title. Therefore, bands create a backing group on the spot with
instruments that give some direction to the melodic outlines for guest
performers sitting in. From the same viewpoint derives the tradition of
making song requests (Mann 2008) that have very little to do with any
jazz repertoire. Vocal jazz seems to be treated like pop music, because
vocal music in Malaysia is commonly understood as pop music. All
these recent observations allow for an insight into the current situation
and the differences between jazz played with imported vocalists and
jazz evolved from the urban scene, sharing stages with songwriters and
special indie bands.
The lack of understanding Malaysian popular music as a cultural space
of communicating diversity is seen in many self-descriptions addressed to
non-Malaysians. Di Piazzas Malaysia in Pictures is one example:
Islamic and Chinese musical styles influence much of the modern
music that Malaysians enjoy. Islamic chants called hadrah are sometimes accompanied by dance. Chinese-influenced romantic songs
called dondang saying are accompanied by an orchestra Sheila
Majid is a popular jazz singer (DiPiazza 2006: 53).
The way Di Piazza puts Chinese on a comparative level with Islamic

shows the congruency between ethnic and religious identity of the Malay
population. The eclectic list mirrors exactly what is understood as being
suitable and appropriate: not much, if any, Chinese-influenced romantic
songs. Sheila Majid21 is a very famous singer of all kinds of songs, those in
21. Shaheila binti Abdul Majid, born 1965 in Kuala Lumpur.
157
the jazz idiom included. But she is not even doing jazz although she has
performed from time to time on stage with various jazz musicians such as
Nathan East from Four Play. However, using some kind of neutral thirds
or syncopations does not yet imply jazz in an otherwise strictly fixed pop
music composition regardless of who plays the bass.
Amongst specialist audiences, there was a demand for jazz in Malaysia to become distinct from the mainstream. Matusky and Tan (2003: 391)
say about jazz band instrumentation that: In addition, the tabla, bin, sitar
and vina are often employed in contemporary jazz. These Indian musical
instruments did not replace other instruments; they were added to start
a change in sound aesthetics, which reflect local resources. As already
practised in the case of the early twentieth century, the tabla and the harmonium, and later the accordion, were assimilated into the Bangsawan
theatre band, thus the use of these instruments presents a continuation in
terms of sound aesthetics (Tan 1997: 73). Musicians, who later joined
the Orkestra RTM, partly implemented the idea of a local sound and cultivated special playing techniques such as melodic ornamentations and
interlocking rhythms deriving from theatre music practices, which were
then adopted by the following generation. However, many local interpretations of jazz standards are rarely deliberately modified or coloured by local
sound references (Nicholson 2005: 106; Tan 2010). From the musicians
point of view, these changes call for an international audience that might be
interested in attractive local jazz rather than conventional interpretations of
jazz standards.
Festivals
To propagate jazz, the few existing bands and larger ensembles have been
trying to get to their audience via international festivals that do not highlight
jazz such as the Rain Forest World Music Festival held annually since 1998
in a scenic open-air setting in Sarawak. To do so, the selection of participating groups changes as well as the repertoire they perform.
The idea of jazz festivals in Malaysia was born in the late 1990s. Paul
Augustin started the Penang Island Festival in 2004 and was followed by
other enthusiasts. However, he faced the same problem of an undifferentiated performance practice in terms of putting different genres of popular
music as well as different jazz meanings in one performance scheme (Nichoslon 2005: 107). This tendency is clearly seen in other jazz festivals organized in Malaysia. Yet, in 2011, Augustin stated in an interview with Bangkok
City Jazz that:
158

This year, we start a Indie programme. Yes, we go the other way
round. Why waiting for people to accept jazz, if they do something
else creative?
Tourists are coming from Thailand, Singapore, Indonesia or Australia.
Basically, it is also an island, so people just come to relax and to have
some live music (Augustin 2011).
Also, Augustin tries to propagate a world view into various directions. He

says:
The market has been controlled or flooded with a lot of American style
music. When we started it [the Penang Festival], we put Europeans in,
then we realized that here is a market for this kind of thing (ibid.).
The addition of European jazz into Malaysian festivals has a bridging effect
on the local musicians who may relate themselves to the performative
individualism of Scandinavian, Baltic, Italian or German jazz. Nevertheless, in the public perception, jazz festivals might be seen as interesting
events that are enjoyed as family outings that contribute in their way to
a mutual cultural understanding between racially diverse musicians and
audiences (Chan 2011; Augustin 2011). The emphasis on ethnic diversity
then became a symbolic rather than a musically necessary feature of other
groups that were doing jazz. Musicians keep a multi-ethnic composition in
their formation (Ong 2010: 150; Tan 2010) to attract all parts of the audience
and to avoid ethnic labelling. In the course of this process, musical instruments were labelled ethnically. Although there are visibly special domains
for Malay, Chinese and Indian musicians, the choice of instrumental preferences is rather socially determined.22 Often, young jazz musicians follow
public expectation more willingly than their own individual musical preferences (Tan 2010).
Jazz individuals
Jazz individuals in Malaysia can be grouped into various categories according to their education, their connection with the local or national music business, their cultural background that includes racial and religious affiliation,
or their perception of jazz. In reality, all these criteria are variously related
to each other. As a result, one can find two major groups of jazz individu-
22. Pianos are considered to be the most expensive instruments. Though many Malay
families might be wealthy enough to afford a piano, they would not spend that amount for
an activity that is ethically in question.
159
als, one being educated mostly abroad, predominantly non-Muslim and

independent from major music business companies. The other group is
self-taught or formally educated within the country, predominantly Malay
and therefore Muslim, and at least occasionally affiliated with various major
music companies. A third group is the very young generation that have
recently been educated in Kuala Lumpur heading for one or the other direction in doing or in making jazz. This third group might be subject to a further
study on jazz in Malaysia.
As already mentioned in the section on jazz worlds in Kuala Lumpur,
musicians doing jazz in Malaysia are mostly not only or not even mainly
jazz musicians. On the jazz stage one can find people like Aubrey Suwito,
the musical director of star search competitions such as Malaysian Idol
and One in a Million, the descendant of a migrated Indonesian Chinese;
or the British Greg Lyons, who is a passionate jazz musician and educator
omnipresent in the region. For the average Malaysian, his most important
performances were those with pop stars such as Siti Nurhaliza. Michael
Veerapen, a gifted pianist for all occasions and a descendant of North
Indian and Chinese migrants, is well known all over the region. Helen Yap,
one of the few women on the scene, a Chinese Malaysian who for her main
job manages the diva Anita Sarawak, is a multi-talented composer and
arranger. Isabella Pek, a Taiwanese living in Malaysia, is a good arranger
and team worker in an ensemble setting. What all of these quite different individuals have in common is that they studied at Bostons Berklee
College of Music. Many of the successful jazz musicians working and living
currently in Malaysia are Alumni of this college where traditionalist jazz and
some crossover in popular formats belong to the standard teaching repertoire. However, their exposure to a culturally different society over a longer
period of time may have had an unequally higher impact on their differentiated perception of jazz standards and the development of a critical mind
that can find an expression in musical means.
On the other hand, there are individuals such as Dato Mokhzani Ismail,
an upper-middle-class jazz pianist whose main field is arranging and composing patriotic songs; Datuk Johari Salleh, a sought-after composer for
musicals; Ruslan Imam, a jazz enthusiast but actually a conductor; Muriz
Rose, another conductor and arranger of musicals. These men learned to
play jazz as a side-line in times of need23 and come up with occasional
23. On the one hand due to historical reasons (see section about historical background), on the other hand due to personal reasons or their musical careers.
160
projects that are well-promoted since they emphasize popular Malay music.
There is little interaction with the jazz doers educated in Boston except for
rare occasions.
These two groupsboth somehow doing jazzdo not send the same
messages in respect to what jazz means to them, although they may
occasionally share the same audience. Interestingly, the well-promoted
home-grown jazz doers of the second group contribute more to the audiences misunderstanding in terms of interaction on stage and knowledge
of jazz standards, than the homecomers from the Berklee College. Occasional performances of Malay pop songs transformed by the second group
of musicians into jazz titles are widely applauded as popular art in the mass
media, to which they are professionally linked, thus bringing them in line
with karaoke arrangements and contest singing.
This connotation differs radically from jazz events organized among the
Berklee jazz musicians who have to promote themselves and who do not
share artistic control over their music with any companies or authorities.
In the last decade, they try to maintain a stimulating interaction on stage
supported by a smaller community of listeners who are committed to the
development of an individual, local and distinct jazz. However, local rootedness seems to be another important precondition of really making jazz.
One pioneer is looked at in the following section, the extraordinary and
self-taught drummer Lewis Pragasam, who is someone who started to turn
simply doing jazz into making jazz.
Lewis Pragasam
Lewis Pragasam is a talented Punjabi drummer who was born and lives in
Malaysia. In an interview, Michael Veerapen in reply to a question about
what sets jazz in Kuala Lumpur apart from jazz in Singapore, Indonesia,
Thailand and the Philippines, says: It has to do with the primary influences
you have in this region. I think a key influence of jazz in Malaysia has been
Lewis Pragasamhis influence has been tremendous in the sense of drumming, percussion, innovating with rhythms and cross-cultural infusion of
styles. What he has done has been the model for a lot of young drummers
(Lau 2011). Lewis Pragasam founded Asiabeat in 1979, in which he purposely (Pragasam 2009) integrated as many ethnically diverse elements as
he could find, albeit without referring verbally to any kind of cultural sources
in his performance. Lockard comments that The ethnically mixed Asiabeat
became the most important local jazz group, fusing contemporary jazz and
Asian idioms (Lockard 1998: 246). Matusky and Tan say that Asiabeat
161
(1983), a prominent group of advocating jazz fusion in Malaysia, combined

the Malay gamelan and the Japanese shakuhachi with western guitars and
drums in their CBS albums (Matusky and Tan 2003: 408). Actually, the
Malayness of the gamelan or the Japaneseness of the shakuhachi might
not have influenced their inclusion but, rather, the extent to which that combination expressed Asian-ness.
In the early 1980s, especially in Malaysia, Asian-ness became a shelter
for predominantly non-Malay cultural expression. Pragasam, who advanced
to become a famous musician and festival organizer all over Asia, the USA
and Europe, later more clearly distinguished the origins of his musical references, such as various combinations of drums or even sets of drums
having different cultural contexts and using them intentionally in musical
dialogues on stage (Pragasam 2008). This process took time, but in his
global outlook he presents an integrated musical identity that is a clear
alternative to the imposed national oneness. The establishment of jazz
fusion in the region paved the way for many subsequent actions that could
overcome the lethargy in developing new musical ideas. Without pioneers
such as Lewis Pragasam and the Asiabeat project, the annual Rainforest
World Music Festival in Sarawak would not have been such a great success
or, indeed, would not have started at all.
In the following sections, two other outstanding musicians are introduced. Both Farid Ali and Eric Li Yuan play predominantly instrumental
jazz. They were chosen for their strong individuality, and their creative ideas
which derive from a broader cultural knowledge and professional musicianship. They are two good examples of moving on from the stage of simply
doing jazz. The group AkashA deserves a closer look as in this group one
can find the realization of creative projects which many of the younger
musicians aim for. The group individuality of recently founded AkashA is
exemplary to jazz musicians that are partly caught in stagnation due to
their limited opportunities to exchange musical ideas, to develop creative
enthusiasm, thus overcoming monotonous mainstream performances.
Seemingly, finding a way home as a jazz musician means having to go far.
One who went far is Farid Ali.
Farid Ali
Both Farid Ali and Eric Li Yuan are Malaysians who were not born in Malaysia. Farid Ali, a Singaporean Malay, studied commercial arranging in Bostons Berklee College of Music. He plays in various groups, including with
Lewis Pragasam and Eric Li Yuan and other Indian and Chinese Malay Equinox Publishing Ltd 2012.
162
sians. As a Malay, he started his career in Kuala Lumpur; he made little

impact beyond the usual gigs until he decided to present the gambus,
a type of lute which is a highly symbolic instrument for Malay culture,
as a jazz instrument. The symbolism of the gambus has to do with the
rise of Islam on the Malay peninsula. The modern gambus (also gambus
Hadramaut) is very similar to the Arab ud and is, like the ud, generally
considered to be the only string instrument that does not contravene
any teachings of Islam and might be played even by learned men. The
transformation of the gambus into the gambustar, a guitar without frets
(see Figures 1 and 2), with double-course strings24 and with guitar tuning,
is not only a modernization but also a demystification of an exceptional
musical instrument. Farid Alis modernization frees the gambus from its
narrow characterization and paves the way for a successful hybridization
of local and global sound colours. Though an integration of local sound
elements such as tabla or harmonium into an eclectic orchestra or band
was widely practised in music theatre until the early 1960s, the transformation of a symbolic indigenous instrument marks a new stage of local
jazz appropriation.
Farid Alis concerts have filled the Petronas Philharmonic Hall, and
opened the way for a conscious disappropriation of local idioms. By using
the gambus outside its ethnic, religious and socio-functional tradition on
one comparable level with global instruments, Farid Ali places it beyond
the border of cultural claims. Meanwhile, in the background of the popular
music scene a discussion went on whether non-Orang-Ulu-musicians25
from Borneo might have the right to play and to marketing sape-music. At
the same time, symbolic instruments and repertoires of gambus, gendang,
sanxian and suling were already on the way into the global music arena.
Cleverly, Farid Ali borrows the symbol of the gambus sound without tampering with traditional views on musical meanings. Being Malay himself,
the modification of the instrument and its use for a non-Malay music genre
allows for a distinct interpretation of its meaning. An even more interesting creation is his adaptation of a traditional local dance into a global jazz
context: the zapin.
24. The traditional gambus has eleven strings, five double-course and one single
string. Farid Ali uses six double course strings (see Figure 1).
25. Orang-Ulu is a joint name for indigenous people living upriver on Borneo island
such as Kenyah, Kayan, Murut and some others. They use the string instrument sape
(also sampe, sapeq, sampeq).
Figure 1. Farid Alis first gambustar26
Figure 2. Farid Ali with his newest creation

26. Figures 1 and 2 are used with the permission of Farid Ali.
163
164
One of the oldest records about zapin is found in the description of the
sayings and lifestyle of the prophet Muhammad. There are remarks about
the pre-Islamic period concerning dances called zafan coming from the
African continent, especially from Abyssinia. It was obviously well appreciated and not considered to be one of the decadent amusements (Hanbal
1895: 116; al-Frbi 1967: 78).
The place of zapin in the musical culture of Malay Muslims is ambivalent: it is entertaining music without any link to its religious heritage and
meanings transported from West Asia, namely Yemen (Elsner 2002); and,
at the same time, zapin is one of the few markers of an intellectual tradition
of the Malay Muslim community (Nor 1993; Jhnichen 2008: 279303).
The Zapin Blues of Farid Ali is an adapted model of a 12-double-bar
blues. He plays it on his reconstructed gambus with standard classical
guitar tuning, together with his colleagues who play a modern percussion
set, a bass guitar and a piano. The inspiring source of this blues is the intersection between taksim and kopak awal of the zapin Anak ayam played on
a true gambus.27
Zapin could become jazz under the condition of a re-definition of various
traditionally given features such as the general metric and rhythmic frame,
which dominates over the free interpretation of a melodic model. Taking up
solos and mixing interlocking rhythmic patterns add a virtuous and unique
quality of sound to the creation of this jazz piece.
The great success of Farid Alis Zapin Blues among a wider local audience, although it is a pure instrumental jazz piece, confirms that the construction of individual jazz in Malaysia is yet to be fully explored. Farid Ali
transformed symbolic cultural elements such as a specific sound quality and
rhythms of traditional dance patterns into a regionally shared extra-ethnic
context of an urban jazz ensemble. His pieces cannot be simply labelled
as Malaysian jazz. Farid Alis approach to truly make jazz using his own
unique capabilities shows a way out of the dilemma of cultural division
through consciously denying national constriction. The gambus and the
zapin belong to a wider cultural space and yet they match evenly to other
means of global jazz if freed from its connotative burden.
Eric Li Yuan and AkashA

The pianist on the Zapin Blues of Farid Alis album is Eric Li Yuan, who
co-operated on this project with that ensemble. Eric Li Yuan was born in
27. The most important difference to the zapin tradition is not the instrumentation or
the melodic characteristic, but the understanding of metric units.
165
Shanghai, where he started to study piano at the conservatory at the age

of 12. He completed his Bachelor degree at the International School of
Music in Malaysia and went straight into the music scene with an individual
performance style that confirmed his identity as primarily being a Chinese
pianist. He is called the Shanghai kid by his colleagues.
Looking around in Kuala Lumpur, 95% of all pianists in all ensemble formations are Chinese, while 50% of percussionists and 100% of the flutists
are Indian and 80% of guitarists are Malay (Chan 2011; Tan 2010; Salleh
2011). Bass and saxophone seem to be ethnically homeless. Being a
Chinese pianist is nothing surprising. China creates worldwide the highest
number of pianists, of piano teachers and of pianos. In 2004, the Shenzhen
Daily reported the surprising news that there are 38 million children studying piano in China (Shenzhen Daily, 30 March 2004). The music department
of Universiti Putra Malaysia has taught bachelors of music for decades,
with piano as the main subject. This makes up to 90% of the total yearly
intake in the department. All of them are Chinese Malaysians.28 Only one
music faculty at the local University in Shah Alam has a moderate intake of
Malay piano students. This faculty offers courses for beginners. This is also
the only faculty that does not teach jazz. At University Malaya, the piano
classes are 100% filled with Chinese Malaysians. When asking students for
the reason for this, their answer is that Malays are in strings rather than
in keys. The whole complex of cultural implications buried in that answer
should lead us to thinking about a re-definition of transculturality and/or cultural appropriation. One of the real reasons for that comment from Chinese
Malaysians might be their attachment to non-Malay music and their identification with classical rather than with local or even traditional music of
mainland China.
Eric Li Yuan is therefore a typical product of this cultural situation and
yet a very individual case. In a similar way to Farid Ali, he dismantles cultural meanings and at the same time holds up a mirror to those who are
used to racial labelling. His artistic playing style and his deep knowledge of
cultural connotations enables him to adapt easily to any performance style
without sacrificing his individuality. One example of this is another instrumental zapin piece, played by the recently founded group AkashA. This
zapin is played in an instrumental arrangement which starts with a quite
traditional interpretation although dominated by sitar and Indian drum, but
28. According to the UPM Music Department statistics from 19982011, unpublished
material.
166
the piano of Eric Li Yuan develops this into a jazz interpretation using the
same translating scheme as in Farid Alis Zapin Blues. In the last part of the
performance, Eric Li Yuan switches to a virtuoso Latin jazz.
AkashA consists of people living in Malaysia29 who describe their world
view very simply. Jamie Wilson, the leader of the group, says that there are
no political statements whatsoever in AkashAs music and their music is for
everyone who would care to listen (Ong 2010). However, that seems to be
their important political statement: anyone who cares to listen can be anywhere in the world no matter what race or social status. Again, the denial of
national specificity plays an important role in the identity of AkashA.
Malaysias young generation, having grown up in fear of discussing race
issues for the sake of national peace (Surin 2006), is challenged by a variety
of musical offerings not only expressed in provoking titles such as Bourbon
Lassi, Irish Joget or Bombay Bossanova, but through an demonstration of
musicality that goes beyond stereotypical thinking.
Eric Li Yuan joined AkashA after the groups first album was released. The
predominance of tabla, midangram and sitr might be visible and audible,
but surprisingly the inclusion of piano adds a very Kuala Lumpur-like colour,
where traditionally most of the Malaysian jazz pianists are educated, promoted and brought into contact with a wide range of playing styles.
The future of making jazz

AkashA overcomes identity limitations in various ways through an inventive
disrespect of genre connotations and through its rejection of performative
racial identities. As a group of creative individuals, AkashA demonstrates
shifting individual identities in the frame of a multi-racial yet hegemonic cultural setting as musical possibilities, different ways that can be takeneven
in one single pieceand options that are open to everybody regardless of
ones origin or destination. All-embracing yet simultaneously individual and
unique, this might be the cultural initiative required to take the step from
simply doing jazz to consciously making jazz in Malaysia.
Farid Ali, who had to stop performing after losing his hearing due to
serious health problems, started to teach guitar classes again after an
operation. Other jazz enthusiasts are infected with the virus of individualization spread by Lewis Pragasam, Farid Ali, Eric Li Yuan and AkashA. Thus,
29. Jamie Wilson (guitar), Eric Li (keyboard), Kumar Kartigiesu (sitr), Greg Henderson
(bass), Sivabalan S. Shanmuga Sundram (percussion/midangram), Vick Ramakrishnan
(percussion) and Mohd Shah Nizam (percussion).
167
after a very long and steady draining away of talent, a young generation
is growing up no longer striving for a fast route out of the country in order
to do jazz somewhere else. Although the elderly among todays jazz audiences will not associate these developments with real jazz, according to
the standards of the 1960s, as set by such greats as Charlie Parker and Ella
Fitzgerald (Salleh 2011), the jazz scene in Kuala Lumpur shows clear signs
of having found a local home, one which will definitely include culturally
re-defined hybrid creations from both historical and contemporary popular
music.
Considering the social and historical background of jazz in Malaysias
capital, the achievements of the jazz scene in its various sub-categories
has been rather amazing.
Seen from the viewpoint of conservative urban audiences still struggling
with the suitability of entertainment music in general, popular vocal music
and jazz merges further with respect to their musical meanings. Putting
song lyrics that are linked to local romantic ballads into the centre of appreciation helps to agree with musical innovations such as an ethnically and
religiously unbound performance style. Though this outcome is yet far from
cosmopolitanism associated with jazz in other places of Asia (Atkins 2003),
it contributes to a local way of making jazz.
As the cases of Lewis Pragasam and Eric Li Yuan show, the capability to make jazz does not necessarily depend on being trained abroad.
However, steady exchange with the global jazz world, as Michael Veerapen puts it, is a basic requirement for the development of individuality in
jazz (Lau 2011).
Farid Ali could go so far through having the opportunity to musically
exchange and to use resources of his own Malay culture without being
suspected ethically. However, despite keeping multi-racial teams working
together, one of the most promising strategies in the future might be the
suppression of racial confession to the advantage of regionalism that avoids
national limitation. Other than in classical or pop music, programme notes
and promotion leaflets of jazz venues rarely give information about ones
origin and ethnic background thus the audience draws its imagination on
reading names and eventually looking at racially colourful pictures.
Among all these positive signs of truly making jazz and creating an
atmosphere of a home to jazz in Kuala Lumpur, there will be always jazz
doers around who believe in the effectiveness of the mainstream performance scheme. But this feature is a global issue (Nicholson 2005: 107; Lau
2011).
168
The new generation of jazz makers, still facing hegemonic representation, is developing definite, racially indifferent attitudes towards jazz. But
this indifference is clearly based on cultural knowledge such as the experience of which local music features and which ethnic structure within a jazz
group may cause what kind of association among the broader audience.
However, a strong local feature of jazz perception in Kuala Lumpur might be
the group of jazz musicians yet on the way to making jazz who contribute
a self-determined individuality, accepting the blurring of borders between
global jazz and Southeast Asian popular music compositions.
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Sociolinguistic
Studies
ISSN: 1750-8649 (print)

ISSN: 1750-8657 (online)
Review
Dimensions of Forensic Linguistics

John Gibbons and M. Teresa Turell (eds) (2008)
John Benjamins: Amsterdam, pp. 316
ISBN 9789027205216 (hardback); 978 90 272 9115 8 (e-Book)
Reviewed by Joanna Garbutt and Malcolm Edwards
Dimensions of Forensic Linguistics is a collection of papers reflecting the diversity

and importance of the many areas now encompassed by the term forensic
linguistics. In the introduction, the editors specify this as a guide to the multidisciplinary nature of the field, including the many different contexts and
considerations of the interface between language and the law. The book is
divided into three parts: Language and the Law, Language of the Court and
Forensic Linguistic Evidence.
In the first chapter, Peter Tiersma looks at the distinct manner of speaking
and writing that has been developed within legal systems, primarily looking at
English legal language and examining the background and history of legal
language, before discussing the most prominent features. His chapter provides
in summary many points raised previously by Mellinkoff (1963) in probably one
of the first books on legal language from a linguistic viewpoint. Elements of the
language discussed are pronunciation and spelling differences, as well as the
various syntactic complexities (he notes that the average sentence in the British
Road Traffic Act contains over six clauses) and develops many questions
regarding style. This chapter serves well as an introduction, as it overturns
received ideas of the fossilised, archaic and stilted nature of legal language, and
Affiliations
Both authors: Birkbeck, University of London, London, England
email: jo_garbutt@hotmail.com
m.edwards@bbk.ac.uk
SOLS VOL 5.1 2011

149154
2012, EQUINOX PUBLISHING
doi : 10.1558/sols.v5i1.149
150
SOCIOLINGUISTIC STUDIES
shows that it makes more sense to talk of languages of the law, which reflect and
respond to differing contexts, circumstances and objectives.
Jill Northcott considers educational provision for legal professionals and
particularly that covered by courses within English for Legal Purposes (ELP).
She looks at the influences on approaches to teaching ELP and uses case studies
to illustrate limitations of recent ESP models and the changes which may
improve the teaching of English within the legal context. It is important to note
the extent to which the legal profession perceives the importance of competence
in English, particularly with regard to the many systems in the world which still
use English as the majority language of the court even though the language
spoken by the majority of the native population is otherwise. Northcott recognisesthe value of notions of genre to understanding and teaching legal language, but also points to the need for more research on spoken genres within
the law.
Chris Heffer looks at a specific area of institutional discourse within court
proceedings, and analyses the language and communication of jury instruction
and how the process of jury instruction can be examined from linguistic and
communicational perspectives. Heffer is interested in the fundamental disparity
in understanding of the functions and consequences of instruction between legal
professionals and jury members. There is a specific distinction made between
jury instructions, which are usually regarded as legal texts, and those regarding
specific trials and trial outcomes. It has been shown that legal instruction does
have a marked effect on jury verdicts, instructions becoming more procedural
rather than substantive. Therefore, the instructions can become part of the
formality without giving clear and concise information to juries. Heffer examines evidence to suggest that even straightforward legal concepts can prove
problematic when paraphrased for juries and the results he presents indicate a
need for a radical change in the instruction process as a whole. Such change will
require not only a move towards plainer, more comprehensive language, but
also changes to how the justice system works. Here, as with many of the contributions to this volume, the value of an applied linguistic approach to questions
of legal process becomes clear.
Phil Hall looks at a different form of spoken discourse within a different
context: Policespeak, the language used by police officers in their duties.
Policespeak has evolved from a certain set of guidelines formulated within the
investigatory system, and considered appropriate for police work. Hall explains
the origins and motivations underlying these characteristic patterns. The chapter
considers extracts from police interviews to provide evidence to illustrate how
suspects are led to accommodate in interviews, adapting their speech patterns
to those found within Policespeak. Hall also describes another, less formulaic aspect of Policespeak, whereby the police build rapport with a suspect,
REVIEW: GARBUTT AND EDWARDS
151
managing elements of their own language to those which may equally in turn
accommodate the suspect. Hall concludes that Policespeak is unusual, though it
is not clear what the implications of this conclusion are.
The chapter by Enrique Alcaraz-Varo is one of three on translation and
interpreting. Alcaraz-Varo considers issues regarding legal translation and those
problems which may be apparent when translating legal English text, focusing
not only on lexis (the most commented aspect of legal texts) but also on the
anfractuosity of legal syntax, whereby sentences contain large numbers of
qualifying clauses, leading to problems in translation over conflicts between the
need to retain meaning, and stylistic preferences in the target language. The
particular problem he elaborates is the linguistic anisomorphism in legal language, these gaps within language barring exact translation. This can be difficult
within the legal context as the need for precision, particularly regarding motivation terms, is crucial. Alcaraz-Varo provides a descriptive model of translation
and stresses this with regard to the Anglo-American system. He highlights those
issues previously apparent from Berk-Seligsons work (2002) within this area.
Part Two opens with John Gibbonss chapter on questioning in common law
criminal courts. The theme of the unusual nature of legal discourse is continued
here, as this form of questioning is seen as truly distinctive because it is aimed at
constructing a particular version of events and thereby causes the social and
informational relationship between questioner and addressee to differ substantially from those in everyday conversation. This process of committing questioners to using questions strategically to construct a particular version of events
is often justified on the grounds that it tests the evidence, but Gibbons argues
that this justification does not stand the test of close scrutiny.
Two chapters in Part Two highlight the impact of the use of different languages in courtroom settings. Richard Powells Bilingual Courtrooms: In the
Interests of Justice? reviews the questions surrounding the use of more than one
language within the courtroom a situation which is found in many postcolonial jurisdictions. Powell demonstrates that the issues arising from such
contexts impinge questions of language rights, disadvantage, communication
strategies and transparency of legal process. Powell uses many examples to
illustrate the real problems arising from the use of more than one language
within the legal processes and various issues regarding courtroom code choice
are assessed and discussed. Powell reviews instances of bilingualism in a courtroom setting that have been studied or identified, and considers the methodological issues they raise. He develops his findings to explain how this can help
with investigations into language rights and planning. Within the chapter, he
evaluates how bilingualism serves and subverts justice using examples from Sri
Lanka and Malaysia. From these examples, it is possible to see how code
switching is evident in court and can vary considerably from what is legally the
152
official language. This chapter is complemented by that from Ester S M Leung

where these ideas are further developed, looking at the unique nature of
interpreting services in Hong Kong. The history of the colonial government has
led to the language of the law being a different language (English) to that in
current usage by the majority of the population (Cantonese). Since 1976, there
has been greater provision of translation services though this has been of
variable quality. Leung illustrates how the impact of English is still felt and even
predominant, and how translation into Cantonese is still a major part of the
system. The examples of linguistic problems of interpreting given by Leung
could be argued to reflect a need for improved training of interpreters, but her
point, as with other contributions, is that the myth that interpreting is the
solution is a consequence of the ideological assumption that English is the
language of the law par excellence.
Still looking at those groups which may possibly suffer a disadvantage in the
legal system, Diana Eades presents a summary of the available literature on
certain groups within Language and disadvantage before the law. She explores
the disadvantages in legal process which can be the result of differences in
language use by certain social groups including children, intellectually disabled
people, deaf people and second dialect speakers. She mainly concentrates on
how these social groups cope with police interviewing. In this way, she argues
that it is impossible to address language and disadvantage in the law without
understanding the politics of disadvantage that these groups within society
experience, an area which Eades is aware of from previous research conducted
on the disadvantages that are often faced by Aborigines within the Australian
legal system (Eades 1992, 1996). She highlights the need for further research to
be conducted on how intellectually disabled people interact with the discourse
within the system, though it is not clear how this particular social group could be
generalised. She does raise an important point that the deaf can be viewed as
second language users if they should sign. The most research that appears to
have been done in this area is on second dialect speakers, particularly as regards
the Aborigines. She also includes the point that there is a need for research on
language and disadvantage in lawyer-client interviews.
Dennis Kurzon looks at the impact of silence within legal discourse and
focuses particularly on an Israeli case where problems of silence can occur due
to the wording of the caution as it is given by police officers. According to the
wording of the law itself, there are pragmatic and semantic interpretations that
can be made of silence but generalisations can occur and be problematic. This
becomes part of the modal interpretation of silence and Kurzon looks at the way
silence can be taken in response to a question rather than the meaning of silence
generally.
REVIEW: GARBUTT AND EDWARDS
153
Part Three contains four chapters dealing with the more specific applications
of forensic linguistics such as identification of fraud and plagiarism. Firstly, Tim
Grants chapter deals with the questions regarding forensic authorship analysis.
Grant sets out the complexity of questions surrounding the identification of
authorship of a text. Using Loves (2002) distinctions of precursory, executive,
declarative and revisionary authorship, he shows that each form of authorship
raises its own questions, and hence requires different approaches from the
forensic linguist. Authorship analysis must therefore be viewed through a
distinct set of questions including how the text was produced, how many people
wrote the text and the sociolinguistic profiling as regards discovering the kind of
person who wrote the text.
Ronald Butters focuses on the role of linguistics in trademark litigation, an
area which is largely seen in the US, Canada and Australia legal systems. In this
chapter, he discusses a number of cases on which he has worked as an expert
witness and the process he took with his analysis. Here, law and language meet
up in ways which are surprisingly familiar, but which give rise to complicated
consequences. The issues surrounding trademarks which Butters discusses are
the likelihood of confusion of marks perhaps involving visual/graphic properties, sound and meaning, or any of these; strength, which would mean, for
example that if a powerful corporation were to adopt a generic and essentialist
trademark such as PotatoChip, such a mark effectively precludes competitors
from promoting similar products. These two categories, when the subject of
dispute, are discussed in terms of their semantic, pragmatic, formal, and even
phonological properties. Propriety of mark, the third category discussed, raises a
multitude of linguistic and semantic problems: is the name Fat Bastard Wine (an
actual trademark) offensive, scandalous or whatever, and how do we judge? This
chapter is fun to read, but while all of these areas have humorous aspects, and
the subtle arguments needed to make a case may seem trivial or casuistic,
Butterss chapter again emphasises the importance of the contribution that
linguistics can make to the application of the law.
William G Eggington looks at the detection of deception and fraud. He starts
by defining what is understood by the terms deception and fraud in relation to
lay, legal and linguistic perspectives. He takes as examples for analysis fraudulent
emails such as the Nigerian Bank Scam derived from Advance Fee Fraud (AFF),
focusing on linguistic features used to identify deception. Importantly, Eggington argues that while linguistics can provide efficient methods for identifying
fraud and deception in texts (i.e., post-facto identification), it is doubtful that it
can identify fraudulent language or intent in real-time processing contexts. His
critique notes the the danger of artificiality and lack of authenticity in experimental research, and the multiplicity of sociolinguistic and cultural variables
which are at work in deception and its detection. The paper provides a thorough
154
account of how linguistics can contribute to defining, detecting and providing

evidence within the area of fraud.
In the final chapter, M. Teresa Turell considers the detection of plagiarism.
Noting that definitions of plagiarism, and hence the bases of litigation cases may
vary significantly between the legal systems of different countries, she investigates the complementary contributions of quantitative and qualitative approaches
to evidence. In addition to considering the distinction between the plagiarism of
ideas and linguistic plagiarism, Turell looks at plagiarism in different contexts:
literature, the Internet, education and translation. From this, she draws on
Shuys question (FORENSIC LINGUISTICS discussion list, 2003) of how different/how identical is enough? To examine this point, Turell discusses actual
plagiarism cases to illustrate the different linguistic markers and criteria which
can provide support or proved useful in determining directionality of plagiarism, involving the use of quantitative linguistic evidence.
For many, the term forensic linguistics can still evoke the use of linguists as
expert witnesses in legal process to pronounce on evidential questions of speaker
or writer identity. This volume adopts the broader definition of forensic linguistics as the interface between language and the law, and aims to provide a
guide to the multidisciplinary nature of Forensic Linguistics. One section of the
book is indeed dedicated to forensic linguistic evidence, but the other two
sections contain chapters dealing with the language of the law, and the language
of the court, and the chapters in these sections present a wide variety of aspects
of how language and law interact. The volume provides a useful introduction to
the wider field of forensic linguistics for those who might be considering entering the field. At the same time, many of the contributions provide stimulating
material for non-forensically inclined readers who are interested in the specific
areas treated or in the applications of linguistic ideas and methods in real-world
contexts.
References
Berk-Seligson, S. (2002) The Bilingual Courtroom: court interpreters in the judicial
process. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Eades, D. (1992) Aboriginal English and the Law. Communicating with Aboriginal
Englishspeaking clients. A handbook for legal practitioners. Brisbane: Queensland
Law Society.
Eades, D. (1996) Legal recognition of cultural differences in communication: the case of
Robyn Kina. Language and Communication16(3): 215227. doi:10.1016/0271-
5309(96)00011-0
Love, H. (2002) Attributing authorship: an introduction. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press. doi:10.1017/CBO9780511483165
Mellinkoff, D. (1963) The language of the law. Boston, MA: Little Brown.
[JRJ 4.2 (2010) 171-174]

doi:10.1558/jazz.v4i2.171

Review
Patrick Burke, Come in and Hear the Truth: Jazz

and Race on 52nd Street. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 2008 (hbk). xiv + 314pp. $35.00.
ISBN 978-0-226-08071-0.
Nicholas Gebhardt
Department of Media, Film and Cultural Studies, University of Lancaster, Lancaster, LA1 4YD
n.gebhardt@lancaster.ac.uk
Ever since Philip Bohlman and Ronald Radano published their groundbreaking collection of essays, Music and the Racial Imagination, there has
been a steady stream of studies exploring and extending the questions it
raised about how musical practice relates to racial categories and racist
discourse. Patrick Burkes study of the racial politics of jazz on 52nd Street
in New York City explicitly takes its cue from this research. Beginning in
the 1930s, when the famous Onyx Club emerged as a kind of unofficial
workingmens club for studio musicians, and following the rise of 52nd
Street as a major commercial centre in the 1940s, Burke develops a subtle
and detailed analysis of the racial dynamics of jazz production and reception. His focus is on the mutual influence between musical style and racial
representation (p. 5) as these took shape within and around the area of
52nd Street.
Clubs such as the Onyx, the Spotlight, the Three Deuces, Jimmy Ryans
and many others are etched into jazz mythology, not the least by William
Gottliebs famous photograph of 52nd Street, which he took in July 1948.
The neon signs above the clubs proclaim the myth as powerfully as do
the many stories and images we have of what was going on inside. They
announced to musicians and audiences alike not only the growing popularity of jazz, but also the new conception of jazz performance that was taking
shape there, encapsulated in the after-hours jam sessions and small-group
swing bands. The regular appearance of performers such as Coleman
Hawkins, Billie Holiday, Art Tatum and Dizzy Gillespie in the clubs, along with
the musicians emphasis on spontaneity and virtuosity as essential features,
reinforces the claim that it was there, on 52nd Street, that jazz underwent
a transformation from popular entertainment into a modernist art form, a
change that was mirrored in the stylistic movement from swing to bebop.
172
Broadly speaking, Come in and Hear the Truth is about the problem of
conceptualizing this transformation. Most accounts of jazz history explain
key moments of change in terms of a succession of styles, usually embodied in the work of a canon of great (sometimes even heroic) performers
and composers and measured against a set of core musical conventions.
Taken together, these conventions form what is meant when performers
and critics refer to the jazz tradition. The transition from one style to the
next involves artists in a thorough-going revision of this tradition, mostly
by reconstituting those conventions that have become worn out, clichd
or no longer meaningful. The really great players or composers are those
individuals who are able to do this, to reinvent the musics language and
gestures without destroying jazz in the process. An exemplary text in this
regard is Martin Williamss The Jazz Tradition, in which the shift from swing
to bebop is understood in terms of the individuals who made it possible.
In Williamss study, 52nd Street exists only as a colourful backdrop to a
story that is ostensibly about the individual artists capacity to transform the
musical materials they find in the work of their predecessors and, thus, to
find new ways of rediscovering and, ultimately, overcoming the essential
problems the jazz tradition presents them with.
By focusing our attention on 52nd Streetthe street that never slept,
in Arnold Shaws famous phraseBurke moves the question of change
in an entirely different direction. Jazz styles appear in conjunction with
each other, jostling for attention, their identity emerging from a complex
cross-fertilization of ideas and methods, personnel and practices, rather
than as successive stages of an evolutionary movement. Individual performers certainly shape what is happening, but not independently of the groups
and clubs and recording studios within which they lived and worked. So,
instead of studying the movement from one jazz style to the next in terms
of an implicit set of musical problems, Burke proposes to work through the
many and often contradictory meanings identified with making jazz and the
complicated processes by which performers came to understand themselves as modern artists.
The co-existence of several clubs featuring Dixieland, bebop and swing
provides Burke with the basis for his challenge to the notion of a jazz tradition that is inherently progressive. For him, such a narrative necessarily
obscures the ways in which the music now seen as part of the jazz canon
both influenced and reflected other styles of music and popular entertainment (p. 4). In essence, Burke argues that the actions of individual musicians or groups make sense only if we understand how the social and
Review
173
institutional circumstances in which they performed established both the

possibilities and limitations of their art. The nightly exchange of musical
ideas on 52nd Street thus became the means by which jazz musicians
developed their ideas of what counted and what did not count as jazz.
This is where the concept of race comes in. According to Burke, the
jazz performers who frequented the 52nd Street clubs were involved in
a complicated relationship to racial and racist discourse and practices.
Images of untutored, spontaneous black performers were both reinforced
and challenged, on and off the stage, by the predominantly white musicians and patrons who frequented 52nd Street in the late-1930s. At the
same time, the opening up of the 52nd Street clubs to African-American
performers and patrons in the mid-1940s produced a counter-movement
in which African-American performers began developing musical practices
based on asserting a conception of jazz as a modernist art form. The emergence of bebop thus stands in Burkes narrative as a critical moment, in
which not only jazz style, but the racial discourse and practices on which it
relied for meaning, underwent a significant realignment.
The last two chapters of his book explore the many and, again, complicated cross-currents that both divided the bebop musicians and their audiences from their predecessors, and also united them in unexpected ways.
Stories of Dizzy Gillespie crossing the street to hear Wild Bill Davison are
not just anecdotal but symbolize the larger problem of writing jazz history.
As always, Burke wants us to question the assumption that jazz history
developed in neat, sequential stages: that different generations of musicians had no interest in one anothers music and that changes in jazz style
are, by definition, progressive. Through his emphasis, not just on the big
stars, but on performers such as Maxine Sullivan, Stuff Smith, Louis Prima,
Les Watson, or on Joe Helbrook, the proprietor of the Onyx Club, or Milt
Gabler, owner of the Commodore music shopmost of whom figure as
footnotes in jazz historyhe challenges the reader to see and hear the
emergence of a jazz tradition more as a collective process; an endless,
noisy and messy argument taking place between artists, audiences, club
owners, managers, promoters, record executives, journalists and, after the
event, scholars, about what it meant to play and listen to jazz.
The remainder of the analysis reflects on the decline of 52nd Street as a
jazz centre and the legacy of this period for rethinking jazz history. In many
ways this is the most interesting section of the book. Drawing on various
studies of nostalgia, Burke highlights the degree to which the jazz scene on
52nd Street emerged from successive and, often contradictory, attempts by
174
musicians to recreate a mythic past that might liberate performers from an

artificial, inauthentic present dominated by the corporate music industry.
For most jazz musicians, blackness consistently symbolized this promise
of liberation in that it represented an authentic mode of jazz expression as
well as a form of resistance. The paradox of such a narrative is that even
as African-American performers contended with the day-to-day realities of
making a living as a jazz performer, they also had to negotiate the essentialist stereotypes which determined their reception as artists in the first
place. That so many collaborations occurred amongst jazz players from
such diverse backgrounds and differing styles amounts in Burkes view to
some sort of minor miracle, testimony not just to the tenacity of the performers, to their belief in jazz as a medium for art, but also proof of a history that
is as dynamic, unpredictable and rich as the music itself (p. 205).
By shifting his emphasis to the problem of how musicians occupied
their working spaces, the interactions of different social groups within an
artistic field and the social complexity of any artistic event, Burke opens up
our understanding in novel and exciting ways. His description of the founding of the Onyx Club is compelling, especially the analysis of the ongoing
tensions between commerce and art as they were mediated through racial
(and sexual) assumptions; likewise, his discussion of the changing position
of the New Orleans revivalists within a broader shift in the racial dynamics of jazz indicates the richness of race as a category of analysis in this
context. The overall result is a nuanced study of how musical interactions
on 52nd Street led to new conceptions of race through a long process of
negotiation in which racial boundaries were sometimes reinforced, sometimes tested, and sometimes rearranged (p. 205). As such, Burkes fine
study reminds us that it is not sufficient to just relate events as they happened, but to interpret them; to relate the key events and discourses of jazz
history to the assumptions that found and explain them.

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[JRJ 4.

(print) ISSN 1753-8637

Editorial: The other jazz

Jazz Research Journal

can music, albeit mediated by the pervasive influence of Soviet values on

Equinox Publishing Ltd 2012.

[JRJ 4.2 (2010) 95-121]

(print) ISSN 1753-8637

Down with bebopviva swing!:

Siin mngib Naissoo esindus-kvartett!

Is it some serenade or gavotte?

Kas mingit serenaadi vi gavotti?

No, more just Gillespie-like hot,

Ei, rohkem just gillepielikku hotti,

Cultivation that is only a delusion

Soliidsus kus on ainult meelepett

On bebop snnik. Fakt.

But it doesnt soil.

And this is already faddish trick.

Ja see on juba ultramoodne trikk.

Yet its just garbage and strange.

Bop as such isnt worth anything

Ent rmpsuks siiski jb ja imelik

Jazz Research Journal

Down with bebopviva swing!

Jazz Research Journal

Down with bebopviva swing!

The almanac of Swing Club: the witness of its

Jazz Research Journal

Equinox Publishing Ltd 2012.

Down with bebopviva swing!

As became apparent in the interviews, the musicians were not politically

10. Authors interview with Uno Loop, 1 October 2011.

Equinox Publishing Ltd 2012.

Jazz Research Journal

The high degree of ritualization in the procedures of SC could be

12. Authors interview with Kalju Terasmaa, 1 October 2011.

Equinox Publishing Ltd 2012.

Down with bebopviva swing!

to 52nd Street, the birthplace of bebop, and expressed their dislike of

Forming a band: from initial ideas to

14. Authors interview with Uno Loop, 1 October 2011.

Jazz Research Journal

In an interview on Estonian radio in 199021 SC violinist and arranger Ustus

17. Haltuura is a Russian word meaning slovenly or negligent work. In musicians

Down with bebopviva swing!

22. Almanac, Seletuseks, 5.

Equinox Publishing Ltd 2012.

Jazz Research Journal

Unfortunately the discontinuation of educational sessions was not the only

Down with bebopviva swing!

27. Almanac, Bebopi vastu, 19.

Equinox Publishing Ltd 2012.

Jazz Research Journal

What Kamo declares here is an anti-modern stance which prioritizes the

Down with bebopviva swing!

34. Ibid., 19.

Jazz Research Journal

discussed, defended their anti-bebop positions with great passion and

Down with bebopviva swing!

The meaning of jazz

39. Krutobs personal notes, Minu muusikutee (My way to music).

Equinox Publishing Ltd 2012.

Jazz Research Journal