"Bunny M." is a sixteen year old Dallas resident who plays drums, piano and clarinet.  Her passion for jazz and the challenges she faces as a youthful fan of it is the focus of her Jerry Jazz Musician column, "Accent on Youth." ___________________________ Accent on Youth by Bunny M. *        By Way of Introduction      I love music. In the words of Duke Ellington, "Music is my mistress." If I had a boyfriend, I fear he would soon grow very jealous of my love affair with music. (The day I meet "Mr. Right Who Loves Jazz" is the day I meet my soulmate). The maxim that music is the only truly universal language among men is heavy with the weight of truth. The musical experience for me is the only fluent tongue of my deepest thoughts, desires, and dreams. It is my very lifeblood, and the essence of my being.      I have been vested with a highly passionate and equally opinionated nature. I feel and think in a rather magnified way. My interests are not mere hobbies, but passions. At age sixteen, my life's goal is to, in my own way, bring back the essence of the "good ol' days," and return the soul of jazz music to the mainstream of our culture.      My burning love for music -- jazz in particular -- ties in with another essence of my existence: I am an "Old Soul." Call me crazy, but I am sincere in my belief that my purpose in life is to share my appreciation for jazz music with others of my generation. Any words I write could never aspire to capture the full gravity of the purpose to which I faithfully dedicate my life's goal. Perhaps you know of a person with similar convictions. Not entirely unusual, right? Well, it is at age sixteen when 90% of your peers have no idea what, or who, you are ever talking about.      I have often tormented myself with the question, "Why do I so passionately love, yearn for, and even miss the culture of the past?" It was just a few years ago, while attending a local jazz concert, that a fellow attendee named Miles Davis (no, not that one!) finally provided me with an answer. After describing to him my love of the past, he instantly laid it down in one phrase; "You have an old soul."          I've always felt -- known -- I was meant to be around in the 1920s. The times, the world events, social climate, innovation, the people, and especially the music are all things I am fascinated with. Strangely, I miss them all. I am sixteen years old with a ninety-year-old soul, and absolutely smoldering with an unrequited love of the past. My favorite films include D.O.A., The General, Feet First, Nosferatu -- all made before 1950, some so old as to be made before the days of talking pictures (days I long to have experienced).      In terms of "good music," I generally despise the more modern forms of music -- indeed, I shudder to call it music at all. Granted, I do occasionally enjoy some works of modern music, but let's face it, no musical artist today compares to the likes of Sarah Vaughan, Duke Ellington, or Frank Sinatra. Theirs was real music. Today's pop music is only marginally-musical noises put together with varying degrees of proficiency, coupled to strange vocal utterances which, at times, resemble certain words in the English language. Occasionally, the mixture of sounds is tolerable, if not completely pleasant. No sir, a Johnny Mercer lyric, an Ellington melody, a Fitzgerald vocal -- such are the elements that my ideas of "good music" are made of.      In an era where kids' radios blast Eminem, J. Lo, and the latest boy-band fad, my own stereo cranks out the likes of Ella Fitzgerald, Benny Goodman, and Stan Getz. While today's dance moves come straight off MTV or the latest celebrity choreographer video, (Darrin's Dance Grooves comes to mind ), I work on perfecting my Charleston and Lindy Hop. When my peers tell me my music is "corny," I inform them that said adjective was (reportedly) coined by none other than Bix Beiderbecke…in the 1920s. photo by Cornell Capa Savoy Ballroom, Harlem, 1939     As you might imagine, to be young and appreciative of the past is difficult, and at times even painful in a society such as ours. Do I have many friends? Socially, yes. I love meeting new people, and have no problem building relationships and associating with others. When it comes to music, however, it is quite another story. I love talking about music, although it is difficult to do when your favorite music only evokes memories in the octogenarian crowd, and you are living among a society of youth who idolize as musical masters the likes of Britney Spears and 'N Sync-- no offense to fans of either. Last year I wrote to Artie Shaw, who, at 93 years old is an old survivor among the great Big Band leaders of the era, requesting an autograph. To my great relief and joy I speedily received it. It was a bittersweet victory, however, because I couldn't share the joy with any of my friends -- no one my age even knows who Artie Shaw is. And no one could understand my grief when Lionel Hampton died. I had so hopefully requested his autograph only three days before.      "Jazz?! How can you listen to that #%&^$%?" implores one friend of mine, as he turns up and starts grooving to the rap music crashing out of his CD player. I can't help but wonder the same thing about him. Another friend sighs that the new song from Tyrese (or any other modern artist) is so sweet and romantic". It breaks my heart that she has never heard ballads like Ella Fitzgerald singing  "Midnight Sun" or pianist Bill Evans playing "Polka Dots and Moonbeams" -- now there's a love song to render you instantly diabetic!  I have the acquaintance of one who is forever extolling the poetry/lyrics of Mike Patton. Compare such modern lyrics as Patton's "Phlegmatics", "I awake covered in snot/ Dreamt I swallowed my teeth/ And tried to cough them up" or Christina Aguilera's  "Just Be Free;" "Dance floor's open, feeling free/ Music's pumping to get on your feet/ Take a chance and feel the beat/ Get on up babe, you gotta dance with me" with the lyrics of those written in Peter De Rose and Sammy Gallop's "Autumn Serenade"  -- "Autumn kisses we knew are beautiful souvenirs/ As I pause to recall the leaves seem to fall like tears" or Johnny Mercer's "Your lips were like a red and ruby chalice/ Warmer than a summer night/ The clouds were like an alabaster palace/ rising to a snowy height/ each star its own aurora borealis/ when suddenly you held me tight". I doubt many kids my age can define words like "alabaster," let alone appreciate the deeper, lyrical meaning of a phrase like "Fate seemed to pull the strings/ I turned and you were gone/ While from the darkened wings/ The music box played on," from Johnny Mercer's "Charade." Are not lyricists like Mercer, Gershwin, and Porter the modern poets of the 20th century? More lyrically meaningful poetry is hard to find.      The heartbreak at youth's sadly gross ignorance of jazz really does move me to tears. If only I were a part of a more jazz-oriented youth!      I recently ran into a saxophone-playing, jazz-loving friend of mine. We talked, and embarked on a brief but packed discourse on the genius of Charlie Parker. I left walking on a cloud. Youth encounters of the jazz kind always elicit a special joy in my heart. To know that there are, in fact, other young jazz players and listeners out there renews in me the hope that my goal of a wider youth appreciation for jazz is indeed an attainable one. It is my sincerest wish that somewhere more of us may meet and live fuller lives -- to a soundtrack of jazz. Peace is the word, Bunny * "Bunny M." is a sixteen year old Dallas resident who plays drums, piano and clarinet.  Her passion for jazz and the challenges she faces as a youthful fan of it is the focus of her Jerry Jazz Musician column, "Accent on Youth." You can contact Bunny at: lotusflower1922@hotmail.com * Accent on Youth archive