Moving to Higher Ground: How Jazz Can Change Your Life

Wynton followed Billy Taylor as jazz' most eloquent apologist (in the "classical" meaning of the term: "apologia," "vindication," "explanation") and seemed to possess all of the vernacular eloquence and charisma along with talent to back up every word required to make a difference. Taylor, for all of his eloquence, graciousness, and brilliant musicianship (though underrated when I see that some of his best recordings have never been reissued) was easily perceived as too genteel, too distant, too much one of "them" to connect with a younger generation tuned in exclusively to the electronic/bass-thumping formulaic commercial instrumental music of the '70s, and for a while in the '80s and '90s it seemed that Marsalis did spark a comeback for "mainstream" jazz, i.e. the best acoustic music from Louis Armstrong's Hot 5s and 7s to Coltrane's "A Love Supreme." Suddenly, new artists were constantly being discovered and produced by major labels (Sony/Blue Note), jazz was considered sufficiently "hip" by merchandisers to be used as a subtext in advertisements for everything from cars to clothing, and the mounting stream of interest culminated, at the beginning of the millennium, with Ken Burns' epic history about America's indigenous art form. Unfortunately, things have deteriorated since then. Most recorded jazz is self-produced on independent labels, the clubs (at least outside of NYC) are constantly closing their doors, the jobs for local musicians--society dances, weddings, company parties--have simply vanished. The explanation? The role of technology is so obvious that musicians no longer complain about disc jockeys getting all the work: replacing it is a sense of resignation to the inevitable; the population that remembers the songs of the Great American Songbook keeps dwindling, meaning that the majority of "hit" songs are unplayable out of a fakebook: only the original recording with all of the studio effects will suffice; finally, after Burns' most welcome achievement many musicians insisted on shooting themselves in the foot--e.g. those Kenton fans who couldn't forgive Wynton or Burns for their hero's marginal role in the film. (No matter that the film was in agreement with most jazz history texts and with "received wisdom" about the history and development of jazz; many who considered themselves jazz fans had never read those books. So the film's point of view was considered idealogical and peculiar to Wynton/Burns.) All of which explains the need for a book such as this. And Wynton does an outstanding job, waxing as creatively with his prose as his trumpet solos. He tries his very best to meet younger people on their own level and to actually talk to them where they may be, conceding some of the unfortunate but widely held stereotypical images of jazz in many young people's minds. But as the title suggests, he's not about to stroke, applaud, join them at the next funk-fest or mosh pit. Perhaps the title is unfortunate, suggesting ar

I had a lot of fun reading this book. Marsalis has obviously spent a lot of time thinking about jazz and its relation to larger cultural issues. The result is a book that is deep and yet conversational/accessible. The point of a book like this isn't indoctrination; it's provocation. Marsalis wants us to think about what jazz is (and is not) and why the answer to those questions matter.

One of the happiest art-related occurrences for me in recent years has been my discovery of jazz. I've listened to a lot of it since then, and while I still can't say I really "get" jazz all that well, I'm starting to recognize the great and important players and composers, the standards, and -- maybe most important -- what I do and don't like. My reaction to this book by Wynton Marsalis and Geoffrey C. Ward is similar: I can't say I "get" it all, but I followed most of it, picked up its swing when I encountered it, and had a really good time with it. I recommend "Moving to Higher Ground" very highly. Like in any complex jazz piece, there are a lot of different things going on in this book, so it's hard to describe. It's hard even to answer the obvious question "So how CAN jazz change my life?" Marsalis writes a lot about how jazz works, what's going on during a performance, what good players have to be able to do in order to swing together, and maybe most fundamentally, where jazz came from and why that matters. I felt fortunate to have what familiarity I do with a good percentage of the names, albums, and tunes he mentions -- I think it would be a lot harder for someone without any exposure to jazz to begin to process what Marsalis is saying. My list of things to find and listen to definitely got a lot longer because of what I read here. Although Marsalis has, by his own telling, softened his tone from the angry young man he was 25 years ago, there's still a fair amount of opinion and criticism in these pages, as well as jokes directed at, particularly, tenor sax-men, bass players, and drummers. He also doesn't have much good to say about hip-hop, the musical chops of rock bands, or the disregard paid to jazz, not only by the culture at large, but particularly by the African-American community. As you might expect, there is a lot of discussion of racial issues in these pages -- but you might be surprised, as I was, by the convincing passion with which Marsalis argues that at its finest (and here IS a partial answer to the question of how jazz can change your life), jazz transcends race ... drawing from the African-American blues idiom but speaking to the universal human experience of pain, longing, overcoming, and triumph. It's an inspirational message. Some of the other lessons are more fundamental: discover your voice, but know how to use it in community; honor your elders and build on the work they did, instead of ignoring the past in your drive to invent the future in your own image; and, at the risk of sounding like a Nike commercial, don't do it for the money, do it for the love. This book says a lot about music, about creativity, about relationships, and about jazz's solid claim to be America's greatest indigenous art form. That's a lot to pack into one book, but Wynton Marsalis -- and of course Geoffrey C. Ward, whose young-FDR books I also much admire -- are more than up to the task. This book swings, and it takes you along with it

For the listener or musician being introduced to Jazz this book can be valuable guide. Marsalis provides reasons why you would want to be introduced and some excellent recordings to hear. For a long-time fan of this great American art form and a participant in performance of it, Marsalis verbalizes as well as anyone can the inner drive, the hunger and the joy of playing jazz. I thoroughly enjoyed "Moving to Higher Ground" and highly recommend it.

This is a well written and profound book on how jazz really can teach you lessons you bring to life. Everyone knows that listening to music elevates us as humans. But why? Jazz music has developed a reputation for either being esoteric and inaccessible, or cool background to the scene. In this book, Wynton Marsalis breaks down actual lessons that come from either the structure of the music, the interplay between the musicians, the expression of the individual and the arc of the musical lives of some of the greatest jazz musicians we know (Monk, Ellington, Trane, John Lewis to name a few). Threading in his own experiences as a child in New Orleans, and as a young musician who played with and talked with so many that have come before, Marsalis illustrates how jazz teaches us how to be creative, express ourselves, deal with others, achieve our own potential, and so much more. This book offers up lessons on the music itself that gave me a greater appreciation and desire to listen more, but more importantly, it considers how to craft a life based on the teachings of this truly American music.