Customer Reviews

Beneath the Underdog: His World as Composed by Mingus

5 star:		(14)
4 star:		(10)
3 star:		(2)
2 star:		(3)
1 star:		(2)

 

 

A word of warning to those thinking of purchasing this book - It is not what you may think. This is not a linear autobiographical work - it is more along the lines of an exagerrated story of the pimp lifestyle and the struggles of a light skinned African American in early to mid-20th century America.

Pay attention to the 'disclaimer' in the beginning of the book:

"Some names in this book have been changed and some of the characters and incidents are fictitious."

Therefore, you must not read this book under the assumption that it is a typical jazz autobiography. I view it as more of an artform, just as I would view the music. I find BENEATH THE UNDERDOG to still be an enjoyable read, however, you must know what you are getting yourself into. The stories are all over the place, including wild stories that involve dozens of women in Mexico as well as his later frustrations concerning his time at the Bellevue mental hospital in New York City. Mingus also writes about his youth in Watts, California, specifically the fact that he did not fit in with the whites because he was black, and he did not fit in with the blacks because he was light -skinned. These issues of alienation spill over into other aspects of his life. Additionally, one could argue that the racism and alientation he suffered along with the fame he experienced are strikingly similar to Miles Davis's frustrations in his autobiographical work, MILES.

The writing style in this book is less than professional, to say the least, but it is still an entertaining read. If you would like to explore a much more solid biographical portrayal of Mingus, allow me to recommend his wife's book, TONIGHT AT NOON or the book, MINGUS: A CRITICAL BIOGRAPHY by Brian Priestly.

I didn't really know what to expect when I opened this book. It was the first time that I've opened a musician's autobiography, and I thought it might have an examination of how he developed his style, how did he decide to play the instrument, etc. This book was a good surprise. Mingus is hardly focusing the music, though it is always there, and choosing to tell us about everything that's around it. It seems as if he knows that the reader is probably familiar with his music, and is trying to make us understand WHY his music is as it is, and it's a smart move. The autobiography sort of completes the music, adding a missing half to it, making me understand Mingus the man, and through it understand better Mingus the artist.

The book is written wonderfully, Mingus' writing is brilliant, and the story sweeps you with him and you thank God for it being such a small book or you might've missing a month from reading it rather than a day. Some things are not totally clear, and some things are not explained, but yet, it is a great book, deals with love, crime, blacks and whites, jazz, madness, and the conclusion, which is expressed in the title, that love, for friends, women or for music is the only thing that's really important, and if you dig it, you could find happiness.

This is definately a difficult book to examine. It is mainly Mingus' stories about his life, which are often incoherent ramblings and super-exaggerated tales of his sexual prowess. It bothered me, to a certain extent. I always felt like Mingus was trying to work his readers, really get one over on them. But by the time I finished the book, I appreciated it a lot more. In his final chapters, written from the "insane asylum", Mingus seems a lot more introspective, realistic, and less burdened by an overinflated sense of machismo. If you can step back and examine it for what it is, a bizarre and disturbing look at a man's life, it is a very interesting read. Mingus himself probably didn't realize how much about himself he really told us, without even intending.

[...]I adore the charles mingus i know through his music - the one that can so profoundly intertwine feelings of anguish and ecstacy, anger and love, despair and triumph.

I approached this book hoping for two things. First, a story that artfully captured such diverse emotions as in his music. Second, I wanted to achieve somewhat of an actual understanding of how this man came to be the way he was, what experiences shaped his brilliant art etc.

My hopes rose even higher in the first couple chapters when i found that this was not going to be a conventional "autobiography" in that it looked to be more concerned with capturing his feelings and ideas about periods in his life, rather than trying to be historically accurate (in fact, most of it sounds to me to be a fabrication, or at least based on a very quirky interpretation of events). There are some moments when i felt a deep sympathy for Mingus, particularly with regard to his relationship with his father, and his feeling of isolation due to his diverse racial background.

Unfortunately, however, i found at least half (probably even more) to be a tedious exercise in narcissism, leaving me feeling disturbed by his shallowness and hypocrisy towards women, and a general failure on Mingus' behalf to try and understand others in his life. He repeatedly describes erotic encounters with numerous beautiful women (and only physically beautiful women, mind you), who, without failure, seem to fall hopelessly in love with him, despite the fact that he only ever seems stare at them or tell them how much he wants or loves them (based on his staring at them). As far as I can tell from this book, he didn't try particularly hard to ever get to know them as people, and is content to sleep around even when he proposes to love some particular one. What makes this unforgivable is that other themes in this book include that of seeing through physical differences, struggling to find acceptance with others despite mixed racial backgrounds, as well as frequent spiritual undertones. Further, on occasions he seems to hint that similar behaviour is wrong for a female, which is especially seen in his 2 page hypocrital berating of his step-mother for allegedly cheating on his father, who "only beat her up once!" (which is apparently okay, especially since she asked for it by not being quiet). It's sad that someone who saw through racial prejudice could not see through sexual prejudices.

So, I have to admit that I was quite disappointed with Mingus' character - flawed, i think, by more than just a bad temper. I think this is a valid criticism of even a quasi-autobiography, because it implicitly promotes such ideas.

Even so, I would have been willing to finish this book if i felt that it was expressed in a clever or artful way. The noveltly of his playful simulataneous 3rd and 1st person story telling is enjoyable, and sometimes very humorous, but it quickly lost it's appeal when I couldn't help but notice the underlying arrogance and the pathetic apologia he attempts in certain parts.

As I said earlier, there are some good parts in this book which will give the reader some insight into a strange man, who happens also to be the greatest jazz composer of the 20th century. So, as a story of a strange man this gets 2 1/2 stars because there's at least as much crap as the good stuff. As a supplement to the music of Mingus, this doesn't hold much value, indeed you may even find yourself disappointed, as i did. The music has far more to say than this book

Total stream of consciousness...what a life of a Jazz giant..he was larger than his size and knew how to swing with the best...this book should be used as a study in neurosis and literature..not just the story of the underdog..the pain is there so is the awareness of personality..ones own..not as a disorder but as a spirit in motion.
The colorful personalities are real,you won't learn much about Mingus the musician but Mingus the man.

Mingus discusses, in gorgeous Watts be-bop prose, the turns of sexual passion which come to symbolize his outlook. The book is about sex and sensual satiation, not music, but in the hide there is substantive reveal. Particular attention due to the night in Baja when Mingus makes love to thirty Mexican prostitutes. Hindsight eyeballing of Mingus' spectacularly hollow rationalizations for his abberant, abusive, behavior makes apparent that we will no know more about Mingus after the read than we did before, except that he swung it hard

this guy was amazing. His observations and they way he expresses himself are amazing both via his music and his writing. This book IS very feeling-oriented , I agree with the other reviewers, but that's how an autobio should be. It's an AUTObio, so that person will want to recount their life and any story is subjective. if you're looking to get a dry chronicle of Mingus' life, then don't get this book. But if you want to read an amazing mind put in words, go for it. I think it's brilliant.

Beneath the Underdog is autobiography not in the traditional sense, but is told in a style akin to the self-serving styles of the "jali" or story-teller/historians of various African cultures. The truth is embellished for emphasis, the telling in non-liniear in convention andthe central character is the sun whose brightness impacts the world in his time and beyond,out of the distant past and into the infinite future, true to the essential ideas of African religious principles defined by Mbiti, "sasa" and "zamani."

Mingus is larger than life, often misunderstood, for his genius was secondary to his volatility. He recounts his survival in face of all the obstacles facing the African American male in America between and after the world wars. This autobiography reflects the experiences of Malcolm X as a brilliant child with dreams and hopes inspite of social station, and the rebellion against the realities of American apartheid, political and cultural. There is a melding of the two mens experiences and hence, there reactions and decisions later in life are played out according to that feeling of being cheated of a full life and exceling out of that rebellion to the vapid square society that attempts to tame them...make them less than what they know they are.

This is a biography more about feeling, than facts...these are stories of a life transposed and abstracted in such a way as to deal with the real pain of one's life. Like his music, it is dark and then jubilant, rhythmic and chaotic...abysmally profane and absolutely sacred. There is a lessonn here and a cry for social justice...Mingus was a fighter, a cimmarron, a rebel, a subversive, a palmarista, a priest and a prophet...and a man, a living feeling sensitive man whose beauty is yet again seen tragically in hindsight. This is literary music, approach it that way. There are essentials truths here. Read the book and find them.

To start, this book is not bad enough to turn a reader away from the whole genre. That statement is ridiculous. Charles Mingus is not a writer, the mission of this autobiography is to let the reader know what jazz's roots were. Parts of this biography are on the disturbing side.

In a postive side, the book has a meaning. It stands for all the great jazz players who were brought down by drugs and prostitution. It shows how even Charles Mingus, possible the greatest jazz bass player to ever play, was victim to this. Racism stood in the way of his success. Jazz listeners assume that because a player is currently a hero or jazz giant today, they did not have a wealthy life. Because of this, they set out to earn money on the streets through drugs and sex.

This book is not superbly written, but it allows people to realize what jazz has been through.

Mingus was, and always will be, in a world of his own. Be it with his bass playing, compositions, social life, or just his unique and obscure way interpreting life.

This book has touched on many subjects , not just jazz, but with many other topics. The stories are often blown out of all proportion, the mark of a great storyteller? Mingus the ego is evident. If people don't dig that, then they shouldn't listen to him, or any other artist in their particular idiom, as ego is like tension, and creativity, and love and hate, and all the things you just can't contain within the skin and the 2D world.

The first few chapters are deceiving, as it comes over like Ming's Father is writing the book. The conversation with Bird and Diz and Lucky Thompson on stage. Chatting with 'Fat Girl,' and the discovery of the origin of 'Donna Lee,' all worth the price if you love these players.

There was a story once that went something along the lines of a critic chastizing Ming for his singing on the 'Blues and Root's' lp. Ming responded aptly with: 'If I sing, then it is myself whom I sing for, not you, or anyone else. I can only sing for myself. It's like, if I punch you in the mouth, I can't bleed for you, that's your job, right?'

I reckon that goes some way to describing the man and his fury.