Customer Reviews

Jelly's Blues: The Life, Music, And Redemption Of Jelly Roll Morton

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The great trumpeter Rafael Mendez once said that he lived by one golden rule his father taught him: "Never boast. Someone better than you may be lurking around the corner, waiting to take your place." This was a lesson that Jelly Roll Morton (1886-1941) didn't learn until bad luck, lack of opportunity and rivals who DID take his place (particularly Ellington and Art Tatum) humbled him into reassessing his talent and his place in contemporary music. But, as this remarkable book points out, he not only learned his lessons but learned from them, remaking both his image and his music in the face of near-total indifference.

When reading through this bio, I had reached about page 148 and had some reservations as to its worth over Alan Lomax's half-bio, half-autobiography, "Mister Jelly Lord." It seemed to me that the authors had bent over backward to excuse Morton's past as a pimp, gambler and hustler simply because he was the first to codify jazz in written music, and indeed even seemed to claim his superiority as a jazz musician over such luminaries as Bunk Johnson, Louis Armstrong and Sidney Bechet. Chapter Five, in particular, had several errors in both fact and judgment, consistently referring to Morton making his early acoustic recordings in front of "microphones" (they used a big metal horn to focus the sound into a steel cutting needle, no microphones were used at all, hence the term "acoustic"), renaming Bing Crosby as Bill (a typo so glaring that even a modern yuppie proofreader should have spotted it), and their astounding demotion of the New Orleans Rhythm Kings to "a rinky-dink ensemble" in their records without Morton. (In plain truth, the NORK was the first band to actually swing on records, even from their very first records in 1922, by virtue of their rolling, "loping" beat, similar in feel to that of Sidney Bechet's New Orleans Feetwarmers of a decade later. Listen and hear for yourself.)

At this point, then, I was going to give this book 3 stars, mostly for factual accuracy but not for value judgments or style. But then something happened. They began chronicling, in full detail, the meeting and eventual partnership of Morton and Roy Carew. They fully documented, as Lomax had not, all of Morton's personal, medical and legal battles with their results in his lifetime and after. They described in full Morton's second and last stay in New York, quoted what he really said to black musicians on the street corners of Harlem, and told just how he re-evaluated the musical value of contemporary musicians and planned to compete with them. And they described in detail his sad last months in California and the creative new music he had written for large orchestra, something far beyond his greatest accomplishments of the 1920s.

Morton, then, is truly given his just due as a man and musician. The loudmouthed "braggart" is revealed as a man who did not proselytize his music above all others in Harlem, but warned younger black musicians not to trust the powers that be in the music business of their time because they would get railroaded as he had. The quixotic dreamer who Lomax described as wanting to create carbon-copy Red Hot Peppers bands across America to push his name above all others is shown as a man who truly cared about finding work in the Depression for good musicians who deserved better. And the "moldy fig" whose stomps and blues were already outdated by 1939 is shown as a vital creator who was still coming up with startling new material. So much is already evident to Morton fans from a few of the 1939-40 General recordings, but this book also describes his innovative large-band scores "Mr. Joe," "Oh Baby" (not to be confused with the pop `20s song of the same name), "Why?" and especially "Ganjam." More satisfyingly for the reader, it chronicles how Morton's "loudmouthed" complaints of the early 1940s eventually led to real reform in the 1950s and `60s of the entire music business and the rules it had to follow.

As a result, I cannot recommend this book highly enough. Forget the sometimes stiff and schoolbookish writing style. Forget the occasional errors in fact and judgment. The overall picture it paints of Mr. Jelly Lord, especially in his last years, is a fine and noble one. If you think you know the Morton story, I'm here to tell you you DON'T, at least not until you read this book. I always had the utmost respect for Morton's musical mind, one of those rare organs that was able to remember with photographic precision everything it heard and synthesize it into a unique and personal style. Now I have respect for Morton the person as well, at least the Morton of his last years. Jelly Roll had indeed redeemed himself, and you WILL be startled by some of the things you read here. I guarantee it.

For much of his life, and in the decades since his death, Jelly Roll Morton has had the reputation of a flashy braggart (he claimed he invented jazz--a claim this book goes a long way in validating), a pontificator, a pimp, a card shark, a pool hustler, a pathological liar, a racist, a cliche', a brute and a bully. I'd never bothered to learn about Morton or his music because he was seldom referenced in anything but a disparaging manner. It was my loss, because Jelly Roll Morton was one of the first true pioneers of jazz.

"Jelly's Blues" attempts to set the record straight and salvage Morton's reputation. The 1992 death of New Orleans jazz collector William Russell unearthed a 65,000-item collection of Jelly Roll Morton memorabilia that sheds much-needed new light on the life of Jelly Roll Morton; it is the reason this book was written. The collection contained many never-before-seen compositions Morton penned late in life. It also included his correspondence with friend and business partner Roy Carew, who he met in 1938. In the last three years of Morton's life, Carew worked to restore him to his former place of glory and collect the royalties that were owed him.

There are essentially two parts to this book. The first describes Morton's childhood and adolescence in New Orleans, where he split his time between playing piano in the brothels, pimping, card sharking, and hustling pool. He eventually abandoned his vices to concentrate on music and had some early successes as a burgeoning composer and performer. He traveled the U.S. extensively in his adolescence. He published his first composition during World War 1 before settling in Chicago to perform, compose and record. The early chapters of Jelly's Blues highlight Jelly Roll's amazing piano playing skills, innovative compositions, and ingenuity in devising a way to set improvisational music down on paper--something Morton was the first to do. Also chronicled are his first recording sessions.

The second half of "Jelly's Blues" deals with the last fourteen years of his life, in which Morton suffered one setback after another. His health began to suffer. He struggled to find work, recording or playing, and took jobs that were beneath a man of his talents. He battled with his publishers, the Melrose brothers, who paid him nothing even though they had been releasing his scores and profiting from them for years. He also took on ASCAP, which for years barred blacks from becoming members (even when Morton was finally admitted into ASCAP near the end of his life, the pay scale was an insult; ASCAP gave approximately $16,000 a year to well-known white composers such as Berlin and Rodgers, while placing black composers in its lowest category, paying them $120 per year). Morton was never at a loss for people who were willing to take advantage of him. He suffered one inequity after another at the hands of the music industry. His compositions were widely recorded during the 20's and 30's, yet he never received a dime in royalties.

There are passages in the last chapters of this book that are heartbreaking. Morton tirelessly looked to reclaim his former status and successes and to collect the royalties that were rightfully his. He had little to no success in either regard, and yet what comes through most in the later pages of "Jelly's Blues" is the story of a man who had unbridled faith in himself, enduring confidence in his abilities as a pianist and composer, and a refusal to give up. Right up to the time of his death in 1941 from heart failure, he was composing innovative and complex new scores that pointed toward the avant-garde, still a decade away.

Shortly after Morton's death, Downbeat Magazine published an article entitled "Jelly Roll Rests His Case". "Jelly's Blues" may finally make this claim a reality. I can think of no other figure in jazz who is more deserving of redress.

I've read a good bit about Morton, how he was a "braggart" and a story-teller. Indeed, he was a story-teller but once you read this book, telling how Jelly was robbed by his music publishers as well as his on again/off again wife, you'll have a greater and deeper appreciation of the artist known as Jelly Roll Morton.

A wonderful read, a sad story and thank goodness all the papers were found in that apartment/home in New Orleans less Morton end up no more or no less respected than his former reputation.

The inventor of jazz? Pretty darned close.

Now, if someone would only release the COMPLETE Lomax LOC recordings - that would be something! Mosaic, where are you when we need you?

The book contains a number of careless errors. For example, it repeatedly states that King Oliver recorded Morton's "Wolverine Blues" (which he didn't--they're confusing it with "Weatherbird Rag," written by Louis Armstrong). Regarding "solo tunes... recorded on July 8, 1929," the authors mention "'Pop' (a revisiting of 'Seattle Hunch')." The correct title, "Pep," bears some similarity to the earlier "Stratford Hunch," not to "Seattle Hunch," which was recorded after "Pep." Other mistakes are evident...

Also, the focus on Morton's health and financial problems comes at the expense of his musical achievements--his monumental Library of Congress sessions receive a single paragraph in the main text. For those interested in Morton, I'd recommend the great "'Oh, Mister Jelly' - A Jelly Roll Morton Scrapbook" by William Russell and "Mister Jelly Lord" by Laurie Wright (neither are easy to find), as well as "Dead Man Blues" and the landmark "Mister Jelly Roll."

Jelly Roll Morton has gotten a "bad rap" through the years. After protesting loudly and justifiably about the terrible financial deals he was tricked into, seeing songs he had written stolen from him, he was dismissed as being a loud mouth complainer. He made some bad choices in his life, but he left a legacy of music we all still benefit from. The way he, and other black musicians, were virtually shut out of ASCAAP was wrong. You will wind up appreciating him, and cringing about the way he was mistreated.

This book offers a great look into the world of jazz's beginnings as well as telling a highly engaging and emotional story. It works partly because, even though you know the outcome is not going to be a happy one, you find yourself pulling for Jelly, hoping that somehow the ending at least has some happiness to it. Whenever there's a ray of hope, though, there is a but or however right around the corner.

The book is also a lucid portrait of the type of discrimination that existed in the American music industry at the time.

Tastefully written and not maudlin in its sympathy for Jelly. There are also nice descriptions of what technically set his music apart and ahead of its time.

This is an excellent book which gives us a full picture of the life of Jelly Roll Morton, one of the most important figures in early Jazz. Though Morton is remembered by many critics and fans as a bitter man who claimed he "invented Jazz", a pimp, a card shark, a liar, and an all-around lousy human being, after reading this book, I have come to think of him as an American musical genius and a man with great strength and pride in his work. "Black Bottom Stomp" is one of the most wonderful pieces of music in history; I have never heard such amazing musicianship in such a short song. The tune is literally crammed with ideas. "Deep Creek" is Jelly Roll's masterpiece in my opinion, and "Dead Man Blues" and "Pretty Lil" are not far behind. The author does an excellent job of discussing all of these tunes, and how Jelly Roll was able to read, write, and compose music, as well as tell all of his band members exactly (and we mean exactly!) how to play their instruments. I enjoy his music even more than that of Louis Armstrong, and feel that he is a truly under-appreciated genius in the field of Jazz, and American music in general. Lester Melrose is a real s.o.b. and really robbed Jelly Roll. He cheated him out of countless dollars. The author does a wonderful job of helping Mr. Morton redeem himself. Until the very end of his life, Jelly Roll Morton tried to record music that was light years ahead of what everyone else was writing and playing. This book is excellently written, fun, tragic, and highly recommended!

Very much of Morton's life and legacy remain in controversy, controversy in part created by Morton's own assertiveness about his seminal role in creating Jazz and the often blunt defense he made of himself against rivals like WC Handy. Reich seeks to come to Morton's defense by using recently available documents including letters from Morton to a long time collaborator and the newly-found manuscripts of Morton's compositions of the late 1930s and 1940. Along the way he presents a fairly accurate and useful picture of Morton's youth than other reporters.

Reich's strength is his depiction of Morton's last years when money ran out, his health declined, and the recording industry felt that Morton was out of fashion. He provides a great explanation of how the Melrose Brothers cheated Morton and others out of millions of royalty dollars. He also describes very well the way that ASCAP limited membership for Black composers like Handy and then provided them a pittance of the money it collected off of their compositions during the 1930s and 1940s. For those concerned about the controversies between Handy and Morton, it must be pointed out that Handy's autobiography written in 1941 ends with a paen to ASCAP, without mentioning the struggle that Morton and other Black composers had with that organization.

Morton was one of the great musicians and composers in American history. However, American capitalism's ability to milk his creativity without paying him anything reached its bleak end in his final illness. Morton could not afford decent medical attention as heart problems assailed him. He could afford only a few days in a rest home where he was told that months of such care could have lead to his survival.

One of the areas that this book provides a corrective is in relation to the Alan Lomax interviews with Jelly Roll Morton. In the mid 1930s, Morton, living in Washington spent hours being interviewed by Lomax for the library of country. Reich explains that Lomax brought a bottle of whiskey to each session and encouraged Morton to drink, knowing that Morton's comments would be come more exaggerated and pugnaciou, the more whiskey Morton drunk. This coincides with Lomax's behavior throughout his career of trying to make sources he found reflect what he wanted. Very much of Morton's reputation as an unreliable braggart comes from these interviews.

The editorial reviews rightly praise this wonderful investigative piece based on a strong archive of Jelly Roll materials. The latter half of Jelly Roll's story is a tragedy and even worse, one that has not really been redressed as two charges are quite clear: (1) ASCAP and two of Morton's publishers still owe considerable sums to his estate that has never been paid and (2) Morton's last will was signed under duress and his wife and sisters and their heirs are still not receiving the sizeable amounts due them even this many years later. Meanwhile individuals that Morton either never knew or violently detested, some of them rather racist, have profited greatly. One only hopes that someday this will be set right and at least some justice served, even if too late for Morton's own life.

Jelly's Blues is Howard Reich and William Gaines's collaborative biography of jazz musician Jelly Roll Morton and recounts his birth to a large extended family in New Orleans in 1885, his rise to fame as a virtuoso pianist, and his flamboyant mark on the jazz world. From Jelly Roll Morton's struggles with poverty and obscurity to his journeys through jazz, Jelly's Blues provides an excellent and lively biographical survey.