There are projects which begin with a bold imaginative vision, only to founder on the reefs of overreach. This was just such a project. It was during the first lockdown that an idea formed; triggered by an email exchange with a New York Jazz musician. During our communications, the discussions had shifted from music to books and we both drew comfort from that. The gigs had all vanished and musicians everywhere were suffering. We had lost Lee Konitz and Henry Grimes to the virus and the bad news kept coming at us like an out of control freight train. By common assent we realised that there was little use in dwelling on the horrors at the door, so we sought solace in the warm embrace of classic literature.
‘I see that you’ve been reading ‘Don Quixote’ he said, as I often post reviews of my reading material on Facebook. ‘It’s next on my must-read list’ he added. The discussion then shifted to plague literature as I had been reading ‘Samual Pepys Diaries’ to see how he navigated the 1665 London plague. That was followed by ‘The Plague’ by Albert Camus and ‘A Journal of the Plague Year’ by Daniel Defoe. The books were strangely comforting; proving that there is nothing new under the sun, just variations on ancient themes. Books like that, with the clarity of hindsight, can reveal what is currently obscured by proximity.
What have you been reading I asked? He replied with an impressive list of books which ranged from ‘The History of the Peloponnesian War’ by Thucydides to modern political biographies and sociological studies of the American psyche.
At that point and without real evidence, I decided that Jazz musicians were voracious readers. It made sense due to the preternatural sparking of the improviser neurons. I further speculated that creatives may handle adversity better than others, as they possess a richer interior life. My own encounters with improvisers reinforced that view as they are overwhelmingly articulate, liberally minded and they understand the arc of history. What arose out of that was my big idea.
That improvisation was not only fed by notes and imaginings but by artistic cross-connections; resulting in subliminal intertextuality.
At the time I was conducting ZOOM interviews for the US-based Jazz Journalists Association website. As I interviewed the musicians I would glance over their shoulders to see what was on their bookshelves. What I saw reinforced my view. Convinced that I was onto something, I became the voyeur, hunting online for Jazz lockdown interviews and living room gigs: looking behind the subjects to the books in the background. Writers are obsessed with others reading habits and seldom grasp how uncomfortable it can make people.
My next step was to design a survey and this is where my vision crashed to earth. I have designed many surveys in my life, but for some reason, I forgot the basic elements. Survey basics 101: (1) ensure that the survey captures a wide enough sampling of your target demographic to be truly reflective of the group. (2) randomise the selection within target areas and don’t cherry-pick in order to get the answer you expect. (3) anonymise the forms and the returns to ensure that the answers that you receive are without prejudice. (4) choose the wording carefully and never preempt a conclusion by telling the participants what you expect to find. (5) never send out a survey just before Christmas.
It is fair to say, that I not only failed to meet the basic design standards, but I also managed to scare off almost all of the participants. Even those who were normally happy to engage with me. It was the worst of all worlds from their point of view. Because they were replying under their own names, their choices were as follows: (1) risk looking like a geeky bespectacled barn owl. (2) risk looking like a dumb-arse in front of their intellectual peers. (3) tell lies, then risk exposure later when an ex-girlfriend called them out on the lie and mocked them on social media, posting pics of empty bookshelves. (4) play it safe and pull down the cone of silence.
Here is an overview of the replies: Only one musician fulfilled all of my expectations and his replies revealed both breadth and depth. A gifted European musician said he read manuals for relaxation and little else. He had no books on his plan-to-read list and confessed, that the only library in his home was his wife’s (I take that reply with a large pinch of salt owing to the many erudite references in his song titles). Another replied that he had read half a comic during the lockdown. Yet another prominent local musician, from whom I regularly receive erudite reading lists, went ominously silent.
Hindsight is an exact science and the flaws in my methodology never occurred me until after I had sent out the survey. The results, such as they were, revealed a different story than intended. I had wasted a perfectly good theory on the altar of poor design. I still ascribe to the theory of subliminal intertextuality, but a better scholar than me will have to pursue that study. I have no doubt that it is real and my abject failure to nail it down will taunt me, every time I spot a clever literary reference in a Jazz tune or in an album title.
JazzLocal32.com was rated as one of the 50 best Jazz Blogs in the world by Feedspot. The author is a professional member of the Jazz Journalists Association. His blogs also appear on the Radio13 website
This is the second Auckland Jazz Festival and what incredibly tasty offerings there are in the programme. The event runs as a fringe festival and this is absolutely the right approach; no corporates making stupid unhelpful suggestions, an intense focus on the best of Kiwi improvised music and international acts with an established connection to New Zealand. The ‘best kept secret’ ethos is a good model for this music and it’s true. In a nutshell the festival tells an all but hidden story; the story of a vibrant diverse Jazz scene, with more than enough talent to wow discriminating audiences. The biggest downside of fringe festivals is that they run on air. Good attendance can mitigate this. With no significant up-front advertising budget, the role of the sponsoring clubs, bars, galleries and local record labels is vital. Those venues and the labels (Rattle in this case) need our support and appreciation. While Auckland has an unfortunate track record of failing to support the arts, the winds of change are in the air. The gigs on offer are diverse and interesting and Auckland will increasingly want a piece of this magic. 
The festival opened on the 14th with a duo of respected Australian musicians, ‘The Prodigal Sons’. P J Koopman (guitar) and Steve Barry (piano) are expats who left New Zealand long ago to work in Australia. Both are fondly remembered by Kiwi audiences and both are now firmly established in Sydney; polished musicians speaking each others language. The years of hard work and performance in diverse situations giving them particular insights. Barry has been widely acknowledged for recent albums and although widely engaged in academic pursuits recently, it is good to see him on the road again. These guys can really swing their lines and do it while spinning out fresh ideas. No tempo deters them, but it was the medium and slow tempos that showed us their best. The two original compositions which particularly impressed me were by Koopman; ‘Working Title’ and ‘Major Minor’. On these tunes the exchanges between the two were breathtaking. They engaged two fine local musicians for the gig and with the talented Cameron McArthur on bass and Andrew Keegan on drums the gig was superb. McArthur and Keegan were there every step of the way and as pleasing as the headliners.
On Thursday the Jonathan Crayford Electric Trio featured. It is no secret that I rate Crayford highly and I would go to see him perform anywhere. Arguably one of our top Jazz exports to the world and undoubtedly one of the more innovative musicians on the scene today. No Crayford project is a half-hearted affair, as this musician lives music in the fullest sense. His musical outpourings are sublime but it goes deeper than his excellent musicianship. Crayford’s vantage point on the creative life is unusual and deeply focussed: few others share his perception.
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