Jazz and Classical
An analysis on the symbiotic nature of two very distinct cultural music traditions.
Despite initial negative views towards each other, jazz and classical music exerted subtle yet undeniable influences on the other throughout the 20th century. The result was not only the expansion of resources and repertoires available to musicians in each genre, but also allowing for the simultaneous freedom of traditional conventions and constraints.
The mentality behind classical music is often described as “conservatory” in nature. For most of it’s history, the European classical tradition has been grounded in formal training and education in both performance and composition. Classical musicians often reflect certain national characteristics adhered to in a specific geological area, which are then perpetuated through conservatories and the training therein. English bassists, for example, sound slightly different from German bassists, and all students are trained to imitate the accepted sound of their traditions.
“In classical music a ‘beautiful’ sound is that which is deemed fashionable at a particular time and place — and these fashions do, of course, change from time to time — every three or four generations.”
(Gunther Schuller)
In jazz, on the other hand, it is traditionally up to the performer to create their own sound — if it is within their technical and creative capacities to do so — one that suits their musical concepts and style. The sound, timbre, and sonority are much more at the service of self-expression, interlocked with articulation, phrasing, slurring, and other stylistic modifiers. Texture is often described with colors, creating different sounds with complex harmonies or rhythms. To create their own texture, jazz musicians employ any method available to them, fundamentally shown through their tone. The use of vibrato — of what kind, how fast, how wide, how intense, or lack thereof — is an example of a extremely potent device with which jazz musicians experiment. (Wigmore 11)
Classical music today is thus a world of training and education where methods, techniques, and sounds are passed down from one generation to the next. In this way, classical music is the polar opposite from the new spontaneous sounds of jazz. This is not to say that classical music must be a rigid, formal script that must be rehearsed and then passed on. Nor to convey that jazz is a completely unstructured and spontaneous outburst blown out by “uneducated musicians. In fact, over the past 100 years, both styles have increasingly departed from their traditional stereotypes and characteristics, embracing foreign elements, and exploring new sounds.
A time of experimentation, the 1920s marked a phase in musical history where classical composers began tapping into the styles prominent during “The Jazz Age.” The result was one of the most popular American concert works ever created: George Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue.
Gershwin was the first composer to attempt a creation of blended elements between classical and jazz. Rhapsody in Blue, written in 1924 and commissioned by Paul Whiteman, has become one of the most endearing pieces from the symphonic jazz movement. The whole concept of a rhapsody actually lends itself quite well to the idea of fusing two genres together, because of its less formalistic style. At the time, jazz was very rooted in the standard 32-bar A-A-B-A, so the employment of a highly emotional form from classical music gave Gershwin many more possibilities.
This piece has been described as combining “Lisztian virtuosity with all the ingenuity of jazz pianism.” Most notable, are Gershwin’s scintillating passages that traverse the entire piano. This in and of itself is not strictly classical but it is these virtuosic passages combined with the jazz-like rhythmic syncopations that make this work exciting. Further stepping outside the classical norms, Gershwin frequently uses a recursive harmonic progression of minor thirds — a common element of Tin Pan Alley music.
The most significant classical classical element is, of course, the fact that it was thoroughly composed, devoid of any sort of jazz-like improvisation. Having said this, however, many of the written piano solos move in such a way that gives the audience an illusion of improvisation, thus contributing further to the jazz sound of the piece. I encourage all those reading to play the video at the bottom to watch Leonard Bernstein’s stunning performance with the New York Phil in 1976. (You can view the improvisatory style at around 12:35)
In the world of ‘jazz’, experimentation was at work in the form of Duke Ellington. While I believe him to be incredibly important in terms of opening new ideas and expanding sounds, it is difficult for me to include him in an essay examining the respective influence of jazz and classical. Perhaps the similarities between Ellington’s music and classical music are best examined with regard to orchestration. Like Debussy, Ellington wrote with special consideration to color. Though unlike Debussy or Ravel, who each wrote for the sound and tone of the instrument itself, Ellington wrote with the timbre of his own individual musicians in mind. In this way Ellington became a new breed of composer by writing not just for specific function, but for a particular group of human beings, each with their own characteristics. (The Economist 17)
“Reminiscing in Tempo is completely different from any other jazz of the middle 30’s. Not only in form, but the sound, has very little in common with other jazz of the period. Duke used the orchestra with great restraint, a restraint which is emphasized by the absence of brutal timbres.” (Tucker 93)
We can experience Ellington’s compositional style through his four-part piece called, “Reminiscing in Tempo.” One of the most audacious concert works at the time, Ellington shocked audiences by reversing the traditional roles of his instruments. For example, while the bass is ordinarily entrusted with providing a low tonal center or defining the rhythm section, Ellington pushed it into a soloistic position. (Tucker 93) In this respect, the bass was similar to its use in classical symphonic music, where the instrument is sometimes afforded melodic status. Another unique feature of Reminiscing in Tempo is the fact that there are no improvised solos — unheard of in jazz composition at the time. After the piece premiered, Ellington was accused by most critiques of “deserting jazz,” showing us just how revolutionary it was for its time. (Tucker 93)
Though the 1920s did not achieve a complete fusion of both genres, the period set important groundwork for the following third stream movement in the 1950s and, eventually, fusion in the 1970s. Adding jazz instruments to classical music, and vice versa, significantly changed the colors and tones of Milhaud, Copland, Gershwin, and others. From the jazz side of things, Duke Ellington looked to attitudes towards classical music for inspiration in turning jazz into a “serious” art form. The converging forces on both sides of the jazz/classical spectrum combined to spur the emergence of third stream music in the 1950s, heralding a true synthesis for both genres.
Symphonic works of the 1920s were essentially cake. The substance of the medium was maintained as predominantly classical, though sprinklings of jazz frosting could be found here and there. While the composers of the time made it sound ‘jazzy,’ the compositions lacked one of the most important jazz elements: Improvisation. It was not until the third stream movement that this integral aspect of jazz was introduced.
What is third stream? The best definition can be found by going straight to the person who originally coined the term. In 1957, Gunther Schuller gave a lecture at Brandeis University and used third stream to describe:
“A type of music which, through improvisation or written composition or both, synthesizes the essential characteristics and techniques of contemporary Western art music and other musical traditions… The term was originally applied to a style in which attempts were made to fuse basic elements of jazz and western art music — the two mainstreams joining to form a third stream.”
The label, third stream, has created much controversy amongst musicians and critics from both genres. Essentially, the controversy stems from the fact that jazz critics judge third stream works on jazz terms, dismissing the classical elements, while classical critics judge based on classical terms, dismissing the jazz elements. (Powers 17) The better view is, obviously, to accept third stream on its own terms, recognizing it as a new and separate genre, incapable of being listened to or analyzed from classical or jazz standpoints.
In 1981, Schuller offered a list of “What Third Stream is not”:
It is not jazz with strings.
It is not jazz played on “classical” instruments.
It is not classical music played by jazz players.
It is not inserting a bit of Ravel or Schoenberg between be-bop changes — nor the reverse.
It is not jazz in fugal form.
It is not a fugue played by jazz players.
It is not designed to do away with jazz or classical music; it is just another option amongst many for today’s creative musicians. (Schuller, 120)
Now the question becomes, if such differences were so rooted and prominent, what allowed third stream to continue? For the most part, the reasons for the continued cross-fertilization were the same as those which initiated the first experiments with symphonic jazz back in the 1920s. Simultaneously, as jazz grew and morphed through different styles and sounds, continued interest from the classical community was sustained. The same was true with regard to the jazz community’s continued interest in the classical community and the changes thereto (as jazz musicians were still looking to classical music to lend ideas and to their experiments in breaking away from the standard 12-bar blues and 32-bar song structure) This included newfound interest in instrumentation. For jazz musicians, interest increased in instruments like the flute, bassoon, French horn and strings, all of which had been gaining more prominent roles in classical music since the early 1900s. Classical musicians and composers similarly displayed increased interest in the more complex rhythms dating back to jazz’s early font in voodoo rhythms from New Orleans.
Another contributing factor to the growing convergence was that musicians were increasingly schooled in universities or conservatories. Thus, even where such studies focused on jazz, for example, there was invariably a degree of exposure to classical music and theory. Interestingly enough, even throughout all periods of this parallel development, many musicians who had never really been exposed to the ‘other side’ often hired musicians who were, thus expanding their knowledge base. The most famous example was the continued partnership between Duke Ellington and Billy Strayhorn. Strayhorn was trained at the Pittsburgh Musical Institute where he pursued formal study of theory, concert music and orchestration. Ted Gioia stated that:
“Ellington’s choice of him [Strayhorn] as a musical alter ego no doubt reflected the band leader’s own aspirations as a serious composer.”
Ellington was not alone. Miles Davis chose Juillard for his musical education, even though the inflexibility of traditional music schools did not suit his musical esthetic. Charlie Parker had long been fascinated with contemporary orchestral music. For a while he took lessons with modernist composer Edgar Varese. (Rackipov 16) One of my favorite artists, Charles Mingus — who started music by studying classical cello before switching to bass (a fantastic decision) — loved Bach, Beethoven, Debussy, Ravel and Strauss, and many others.
Mingus’ compositions, like Ellington’s, were way ahead of their time and his music adopted a very experimental flavor from early on. Many of his most popular compositions are following more along jazz standards and are firmly within the jazz genre. No one would argue with the act of placing songs like Fables of Faubus, Moanin’, Goodbye Pork Pie Hat, or Haitian Fight Song firmly within the genre of jazz. However, in my research, I came upon one of his lesser known works titled, “Revelations.” Try listening to it. Whatever sort of revelation prompted him to write this masterpiece is one I will never understand.
The opening of this work is very dark and heavy, sounding like a dirge or some Berlioz-esque composition. This ‘dirge’ is accentuated by a preponderance of ongoing low orchestral sounds and unison writing, setting a strong moody tone. In the middle of this opening style, the mood is slightly relieved by a chain of solo passages for the French horn, trumpet, and trombone, which in their turn lead to the eventual recapitulation of the opening. After such a small respite, the ominous tone continues abetted by hissing sounds from gourds, jangling tambourines, and foreboding rumblings on the timpani. The pressure builds and culminates in Mingus’ own inimitable appeal to the Lord.
At this point the mood changes abruptly to an old church style jazz piano section accompanied by a drum set and walking bass. Gradually, the tempo yet again slows to it’s original feel. The sound, sorrowful and ethereal, is presented through classical-style representation, featuring such instrumentation as the flute, harp, trumpet, and strings. After this section the tempo picks back up with the intrusion of the brass, returning the mood to the original jazz band sound. Such a sound is created by the underlying rhythm section consisting of bass and drums uniquely offset by arpeggiated figures in the trumpets. It is an effective build to the recapitulation, as tempo, instrumentation, and excitement build to make the sound more atonal. Then, the ‘dirge’ of the opening returns, though in a slightly more jazz-like fashion due to the insertion of drums and bass. The ending is improvised, with a flute playing hauntingly, very high and quiet, in the background — like a bird, fluttering, trilling, softly and lightly until it completely fades away.
Unlike many other third stream compositions of the 1950s, this work is successful because it does not try to force each genre to become something they’re not. There is no sprinkling of light frosting over a specific genre, but rather an honest fusion in equal parts, even with aspects such as jazzy improvisation or classical composition. Because of his exploration into both genres, Mingus also discovered new sounds and ideas, showcasing anything from romantic melodies to avant garde techniques. One such example can be heard in the brass and woodwinds where they blow through their instruments and rattle their keys without producing specific pitches. However, of the most remarkable aspects of this work is Mingus’ ability to incorporate so many different tempo and mood changes with such fluidity.
The specific developments that lead to the convergence, as described above, included an abandonment of form and tonality, coupled with a free, unstructured, experimental mentality. Of course, with such a large degree of abandonment, critics and composers alike often questioned not only whether the result was still jazz or classical music, but whether it was even music at all. But as convention melted away, more and more ideas became possible. The avant-garde movement in jazz and classical music was rooted in similar, almost common goals — namely the desire to experiment and explore beyond, and essentially abandon, traditional constraints.
For music can’t evolve without experimentation. Had cultural traditions never mixed in the way that they do, neither the last 900 years of Western European, nor the last century Jazz musical department would have ever occurred, given that no significant musical innovation can take place without borrowing from neighboring genres or cultural traditions. It is impossible to understate the courage and impact musical trailblazers such as Gershwin, Ellington, Schuller, and Mingus thrust upon the world of art, allowing everyone to take a step further into the unexplored.
Works Cited:
Church, Michael. “Classical: Where Bach Meets Charlie Parker.” The Independent. Independent Digital News and Media, 05 Feb. 1998. Web. 22 Feb. 2017.
Mark Tucker, The Duke Ellington Reader, New York: Oxford University Press, 1993, p. 358
Norman, Liesa Karen. “The Respective Influence of Jazz and Classical Music on Each Other, the Evolution of Third Stream and Fusion and the Effects Thereof into the 21st Century.” T. N.p., 2002. Web. 1 Dec. 2016. Retrospective Theses and Dissertations, 1919–2007.
Powers, Carolyn C., and William C. Powers. “Third Stream.” Jazz in America. The Thelonius Monk Institute for Jazz, n.d. Web. 22 Feb. 2017.
Rackipov, Errol. “2116 Evolution Of Jazz.” 9. Cool Jazz & Third Stream (n.d.): n. pag. 2116 Evolution Of Jazz. Web.
“Reminiscing in Tempo.” The Economist. The Economist Newspaper, 17 Apr. 1999. Web. 22 Feb. 2017.
Wigmore, Cameron. “Reflections on the Relationship Between Jazz and Classical Music.” The Jazz Authority. Blogspot, 01 Jan. 2011. Web. 18 Jan. 2017.
