[Dixielandjazz] Goin to Kansas City

[Stephen Barbone]

Well, here we are in the Dixieland world bemoaning lack of interest. Yet
Jay McShann is wailing in Kansas City with a bunch of other "Old Timers"
swinging their butt's off to raves from a large audience. Gives those of
us who keep the music alive and relevant reason to think that yes, there
is a market out there. Perhaps the operative words are "swinging their
butt's off?  Anyway, I suggest we all read this article carefully and
frequently.

Cheers,
Steve Barbone

January 3, 2004 - New York Times

A Jazz Legend Rekindles Kansas City's Musical Past

By STEPHEN KINZER

       KANSAS CITY, Mo. — When Jay McShann approached his piano to begin
a concert at the Folly Theater here on a recent evening, he was emerging
not just from backstage but from jazz history.

Mr. McShann told the audience that he would spend the evening trying "to
see how high the moon is," and then settled down to business. His
performance showed that he still embodies the swinging, bluesy sound
this city made famous.

He played dozens of songs, most of them four-minute classics, gently and
lovingly. "Hootie's Blues," his hit from 1941, sounded as fresh as if he
had just written it. His few vocal numbers, including "One Woman's Man"
and "Georgia on My Mind," showed that at 87 he can still coax pathos out
of even the most familiar lyrics. Mr. McShann made no concessions to
modernity. He never raised his voice or wandered into extended
improvisations but played with the elegance and self-assurance of an old
master.

Duke Ellington, Count Basie and other leaders of the big bands that
electrified audiences during the 1930's and 40's are long gone. So are
most of the musical visionaries who, more than half a century ago,
turned Kansas City into one of the world's most vibrant musical centers.
After a long lifetime of achievement, Mr. McShann now finds himself in a
new role, that of the great survivor.

"Time went by, and I didn't realize I was as old as I am," he said after
the show. "All of a sudden I stopped and said: `Oh, wow. Wait a minute.
I've got to slow down.' Then I had to slow down, because I got diabetes
and the old arthritis creeping in. But I still play around, enough to
keep the bear from the door. That old bear, he's always around, outside
the back door when you don't know it."

The sound that wafts from Mr. McShann's piano is unlike that of any of
the other old piano masters who are still active. He is less
experimental than Dave Brubeck, closer to blues than Marian McPartland
but not a pure blues player like Pinetop Perkins.

These days Mr. McShann is enjoying a new wave of recognition. His latest
album, "Goin' to Kansas City," which features Duke Robillard on guitar
and includes a vocal turn by Maria Muldaur, is selling well and has been
nominated for a Grammy. He was featured on the recent PBS series "The
Blues," on which he played a blazing duet that led his partner, Mr.
Brubeck, to rear back with a broad grin and tell him admiringly, "You
still got it."

Although the musical scene that produced Mr. McShann faded long ago,
Kansas City still has more than two dozen clubs where jazz is played
regularly, making it one of the country's leading jazz centers.
Musicians here are caught in the perpetual bind of whether to respect
the city's tradition by playing in the classic style that Mr. McShann
helped develop or to embrace bebop, free jazz and other more modern
approaches.

The tension between these poles is a creative force that fuels the music
scene here and keeps Kansas City on the jazz map.

"The city doesn't know how to market itself as a musical destination,
but there's still a very strong scene here," said Charles Haddix, a
weekend disc jockey on KCUR-FM and director of the Marr Sound Archives
at the University of Missouri. "It's really a very well-kept secret."

Several musicians who created the dazzlingly innovative bebop style
learned their trade in Kansas City, among them Charlie Parker, who
played in Mr. McShann's big band before moving to New York. Bebop
changed jazz forever, much as Abstract Expressionist painting, which
also emerged in New York in the years after World War II, radically
reshaped American art. Kansas City is one of the few cities where it is
possible to listen to bands that play as if the bebop revolution never
happened.

Perhaps the most famous of these is the Scamps, who have been playing
jazz since 1945. New members are initiated whenever a musician dies or
retires, and today the Scamps range in age from 70 to 83. One, Art
Jackson, played with Parker in the Lincoln High School band here during
the 1930's.

The Scamps played to a full house recently at one of the city's most
elegant clubs, Plaza III. There were a fair number of graying heads in
the audience but also more than a few younger people. Many got up to
dance, some in exuberant styles that recalled the Lindy Hop of bygone
days. It was a sight that would have horrified bebop pioneers, who
considered their music appropriate only for quiet listening.

In the 1930's Kansas City was one of the most wide-open towns in the
United States. Under the rule of Thomas Pendergast's political machine,
jazz flourished along with prostitution, gambling and a host of other
licit and illicit entertainments. The city was known as Sin City and the
Paris of the Plains, and it thrived while the rest of the country was
mired in Depression. Today the American Jazz Museum, at the historic
corner of 18th and Vine, tells the story of those days.

Political reform and the rule of law finally took hold in Kansas City,
and the jazz scene declined. "It had quite a dip," said Lucky Wesley,
the 76-year-old leader of the Scamps. "By the 1970's most places that
used to feature live music were switched over to jukeboxes, or else gone
altogether. Now the demand is for hip-hop or progressive jazz, which is
O.K. for those who like it. We're among the last of those who came up
through the old days, and we've lived to see our music come back into
demand." Kansas City musicians still gather at the Mutual Musicians
Foundation for late-night jam sessions. The foundation, a former union
hall for black musicians, was once at the center of an active musical
district where more than 100 clubs offered live music around the clock.
Now it is surrounded by abandoned buildings and vacant lots.

Inside, however, the jazz spirit thrives. As it approached 3 a.m. one
recent Sunday, musicians were just arriving. With many of the city's
star musicians away on holiday tours, the stage was open for younger
players like Andy McGhie, an 18-year-old saxophonist.

When a patron remarked that the Kansas City jazz scene seemed frozen in
time, Mr. McGhie replied: "That's true, even though there's also new
music coming out of here. When you live here, you can't help but absorb
the tradition. It's all around you. You can't escape it, and that's not
a bad thing. The younger cats coming up here dream mostly about making a
name for themselves, moving out to Chicago or New York, and then maybe
coming back here to join the tradition when they're older."

The tradition seems likely to survive for a long time to come. "I've
tried booking national acts here," said Joe Wilcox, manager of the Plaza
III, "but whenever I do, people come up to me and say, `Where's the
Kansas City stuff?" '