|
"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."
Listen to Dinah Washington sing Accent On Youth 
___________________________
Accent on Youth
by
Bunny M.
*
It Had to Be You
From the time I was very young, music always meant something
to me. During the few years I spent in public school before being home-schooled,
aside from art, music class was the only subject I enjoyed. The curriculum focused solely on the music of the classical,
baroque, and romantic periods, thus it was in this genre that I first began
to experience music on an "inside" level. I can remember falling hopelessly
in love with Claude Debussy's "Claire de Lune" at eight years old. The song
seemed to burrow itself inextricably deep in my heart, and still carries
much meaning and captivation for me.
Music is now an integral part of my every day life. Virtually
every activity of each day has the accompaniment of some form of music, even
if it's only the music that constantly runs through my head. (As I write
this I am listening to Chet Baker's "The More I See You"). I enjoy a wide
and varied realm of musical styles: classical music and opera for schoolwork,
seventies and eighties rock and pop for fun dancing/partying, ambient and
foreign/world music for kicking back, and so forth. To travel through my
personal music collection is to travel around the world and experience a
medley of ideas, language, culture, and musical expression, and in a variety
of styles-- the more exotic, unusual, original, or innovative, the better.
And yet, for all the love of music itself I possess, only one genre has claimed
such a powerful, moving, and unshakable hold on me: Jazz. Nothing in the
world -- short of the usual exceptions of family and so forth -- means nearly
as much to me as does Jazz. Strong expression perhaps, but not nearly as
strong as my love for jazz -- the music, and the life.
I always wondered why I never felt "in time" with the
rest of the world. For much of my childhood I searched to find my musical
identity, pretending to enjoy the latest popular music on the radio, just
like the rest of my friends. At home, my father played electric guitar in
the style of Van Halen, Kiss, and Lenny Kravitz, while my mother listened
to Motown, soul, and R& B. While I occasionally subscribed to a few music
fads of the mid-nineties, I had yet to have a rewarding musical experience.
I felt that surely, somewhere out there was a genre of music that could claim
me and allow me to find the inner joy and uplift that music is renowned to
evoke.
On May 26, 2001, my mother and I were at a computer store,
waiting while my father looked around the store. We sat and talked idly over
the music playing in the background. As the conversation ebbed, the music
became more and more noticeable -- feet tapping, fingers snapping, head nodding
. . . something about this music was completely intoxicating. Between the
compelling, swinging rhythm, the lyrical melody line (it wasn't until much
later that I found out the song had words, but even then, that melody was
saying something), and the rich, voluptuous tone of a clarinet from heaven, I
was taken. I could stand it no longer. I got out of my seat, and, guided
by the sound, walked to the computer from which it came. Like a well-set
movie scene, the case of the CD playing lay nearby. Little did I suspect
that when I picked it up to see who it was my life would be forever changed.
| The artist was Benny Goodman, the song was "Don't
Be That Way," and I was hopelessly in love. I immediately committed the song
to memory, humming it to myself all through the store. I hummed it in the
car. I hummed it at home. All the rest of that day I hummed it, sang it,
tapped it, physically expressing it every which way I could. I started
researching Benny Goodman, reading everything I could possibly find about
him. I listened to every Goodman song I could get my hands on (a considerable
number, given the accessibility of music these days), and talked the ears
off everyone around me about Benny Goodman -- day and night. I was fourteen,
and my teen heartthrob was a big band leader nearly eighty years my senior! |
Don't
Be That Way |
This newfound love of my life soon led me on many a musical
epiphany, as I became more familiar with other swing musicians within --
and soon without -- the Benny Goodman Orchestra. Being a drummer, I was naturally
intrigued by Gene Krupa, and his contemporaries Dave Tough, Ray McKinley,
and that greatest of drummers, Buddy Rich. Benny himself led me to other
big band figures -- Glenn Miller, Artie Shaw, Harry James, the Dorsey Brothers
-- all of whom, in turn, opened me up to more and more jazz figures. As I
began my safari through the long and complex history of jazz, I met other
artists whose music intrigued me more than the style I had just uncovered.
Early luminaries like Louis Armstrong, Kid Ory, and Bix Beiderbecke introduced
me to the freewheeling, soulful energy of early New Orleans jazz. In the
jazz history of Chicago were met my love of the twenties and hot music. And
Benny Goodman led me to the Swing Era, which in turn led me to the forties,
and with it, the revolution of jazz.
I fell more deeply in love with this ever-evolving music
when I discovered the "pre-bop" era. Indeed, the jazz of the forties, and
into the Swingin' Sinatra years, is some of the finest, most creative, inspiring
music ever produced in such a short time span. The sounds of legends like
Parker & Diz, J.J. Johnson, Stan Getz, and Bill Evans all fascinated
me with their distinctive, mellifluous instrumental voices, and the freeing
energy of improvisation. While other singers left me desperately wanting
for artistic inspiration and satisfaction, I burst into spiritual song led
by the voices of Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Johnny Hartman, Mel Torme
-- and later figures of pop like Sinatra, Bobby Darin, and Julie London.
Stan Getz
Corcovado (Quiet Nights Of Quiet Stars) |
And when American jazz met Brazilian samba in the sixties,
my heart was surrendered to this music forever. I had been mesmerized by
bossa nova since the age of eight, when I stumbled upon it on the musical
dictionary of Student Reference Library, a computer encyclopedia. Nothing
enchants me musically like syncopation, and bossa nova fit the bill in every
way, with its crazily syncopated rhythm, breezy melody lines, and a degree
of lyricism that can only be found in Latin-derived music. This new avenue
of music turned me on to Antonio Carlos Jobim, Herbie Mann, and Getz &
Gilberto. In turn I was able to get friends, family, and everyone in between
turned on to Getz and the "Brazil-liance" of bossa nova. |
My love for jazz is an ongoing work in progress;
complex, deep, ever-evolving, just as is the music itself. I have learned
so much from it musically, historically, and artistically. Through this love
of mine there exists a learning process that enlightens me more and more
every day. If music is the thread that weaves my life together, jazz is the
needle, through which the thread passes. Be it Dixie or swing, bop or bossa,
the ever-evolving face of jazz never fails to captivate and astound me --
a face I long to behold for all my life.
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
|
