why don't you do right?

A few weeks ago, The Times ran the obituary of Lawrence Lucie, the jazz guitarist. As would be expected from such an august publication, it was a considered, well-formulated piece of prose, setting out the history of this Methuselah of the rhythm section. Obituary authors are never identified; they prefer anonymity, presumably to avoid the risk of taking away the final limelight from the recently departed.

Yet I can’t help wondering who wrote it. A very interesting phrase was used in the body of the text. It reads: “The records by Morton’s New Orleans Jazzmen, with the saxophonist Sidney Bechet, became classics of traditional jazz.”

The word ‘traditional’ in that sentence puzzles me. What does it mean set into the context of the period when the recordings were made, the early 1940s. I thought traditional jazz was a uniquely British 50s invention, intended to separate modernists (We love Charlie Parker) from mouldy figs (Go home dirty bopper). I’ve never before heard the word ‘traditional’ used with quite the meaning conveyed in this article. Surely the New Orleans Jazzmen played jazz? We have no need to qualify it with the word ‘traditional.’ The style of jazz played by Morton was the original jazz and, many would say, the only true form of jazz.

Modern jazz (as in be-bop and its multiplicity of spawn, good and bad) took the genre of music in a new direction. It remained jazz primarily because the main exponents of the new craft started life playing the old jazz. They carried the word through to the new music. That’s a little like David Beckham inventing an entirely new team game using a shuttlecock and insisting on calling it ‘smooth football.’

I have no real gripe against most forms of jazz being called jazz. But my concern is that some of the stuff being rammed into our ears today is presented with the title ‘jazz’ when in reality the sounds are as closely related to the original thing as fine French brie is to cat food.

Play what music you like; I will applaud you. Create any sound taking your fancy; I will give it a fair audience. Record it and perform it; I will pay to listen. Publish the sheet music and take the royalties; I will make my contribution unflinchingly. Promote your music any way you think appropriate; I will support you.

But please – PLEASE – do not call it jazz purely because you believe you can benefit from the reflected glory of true jazz. The word jazz needs protecting from the unscrupulous and the opportunist. What we need is a conservation order slapped on the word ‘jazz’ so only the real thing can be so described. It worked for sherry and cheddar cheese.

We need a campaign.