Jeep’s Blues

Through disarray, randomness and inconsistency, jazz is unparalleled in its ability to recreate the hazy conversation and carefree air of a 1920’s New York coffeeshop. It may seem to us ironic, for relaxation to stem from music that breaks the rules, plays with time, and thrives in illogic; but the high art of jazz is different to baroque (say) in the same way the ceiling of the Sistine chapel differs from Munch’s scream; one’s to be admired and the other is to be felt. This attribute of jazz is not better encompassed than in Jeep’s Blues by Duke Ellington, the sexiest standard from the king of big band swing himself.

The reckless opening line is a smashing assertion of presence, it’s blasé but means business. Like the shiny fender of a Chevrolet catches the light, it demands your attention, and you instantly know that the Americans are here.

The swing of the song lies in the lazy drum line that loosely holds together the entire piece. The virtuosity of Ellington quietly shows itself through the fills he scatters around, saying a lot through a few, carefully selected notes, enough to direct but not enough to overpower the drunk saxophone that stumbles its way down the street; the focus of the brilliant standard.

The note bending and synchronised vibrato that can be heard in both the soloist and the big band figures give the piece a pining emotion, it reaches out to the listener and engenders an appreciation for the blues, both in its present form as well as its long history of expressing and romanticising the struggle of the black man. Ellington was around long enough to capture this feeling with a passionate authenticity, musical aptitude, and a brilliant simplicity.

I hope you enjoy the piece, listening to it is like basking in the noontime sun, it’s blaringly human.