That was my reaction to Resurrection City by Peter Goodwin Hetzel and his theology of improvisation. Don't get me wrong, this is a man of deep conviction
to both his faith and music. He is an authentic disciple of Jesus who resonates with the poetic prophets of ancient Israel and their cry for justice. And he has an excellent understanding of the history of jazz in the United States. Here's one observation I particularly liked:
Like the blues, jazz emerged to tell stories from the underside of modernity. But jazz tends to be less melancholic than the blues. While the blues is about the world that was, jazz is often about the world to come. Blues gives voice to the hurt of a painful past, while jazz envisions a way ahead. Jazz presses forward into a new future, offering an intercultural horizon of hope. The racial and cultural difference and blending typical of jazz culture also points to the possibility of a racially and ethnically reconciled community. This musical "realization" did not fit the black-white binary that served the interests of the status quo. Jazz was subversive... Through jazz music a colonized people could tell their story in a new, musical, decolonized idiom. (For) Jazz musicians were free to dialogue with the musical motifs of the past, but they were not bound by them. They pressed the limits of freedom, creating new forms of racial and cultural transgression. (p. 17)
Hetzel is talkin' the truth here - and he builds on this throughout the book. My problem with this work, however, is simple: he always seems emotionally disconnected from both his faith and his music. Intellectually he makes the case that "if Christian theology improvises like jazz, (then) the melody it improvises upon is Israel's song (in the Hebrew prophets)" (p. 22) without ever moving me to joy or sorrow. And that is a big problem for a book seeking to marry jazz with theological reflection because jazz makes you "shake your booty." And sad to say, there was precious little booty shaking taking place in Resurrection City.My hunch - and this is connected to two other texts I devoured this summer (The Future of Jazz ed. Yuval Taylor and The Jazz Standards by Ted Gioia) - is that Heltzel's affinity for jazz is primarily an intellectual construct - something that is true for many modern jazz aficionados. He clearly celebrates the more abstract jazz masters like Miles and Trane - and there is much to celebrate in their work. But Ralph Ellison cut to the chase 50 years ago when he told us that at its core jazz is always related to dance. That is, it is an embodied expression of groove that can't get too far away from the physical even while probing the heights of artistic freedom. Or as Duke Ellington said more clearly: it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing!
As a bass player who loves the feel of the music inside and out, without the groove and the possibility of booty shaking, I lose interest real fast. And while I finished reading Resurrection City, it wasn't a joyful read. Another jazz and spirituality book, Liturgy as a Way of Life by Bruce Ellis Benson, got closer to the groove. Here is a deeply intellectual post-modern critique of contemporary Christian theology and the creative arts in the West that knows how to swing. Benson treats scripture in a playfully respectful way that helps construct a jazz focused spirituality grounded in St. Paul's admonition: "Be not conformed to the ways of the world, but rather be transformed by the renewal of your mind." (Romans 12: 1-2)
Beautiful - kalon - is what comes from a call - kalien... (so God's) call is what constitutes the beautiful rather than the other way around. Things are beautiful precisely because they call out to us. Or we might put this the other way around: God's call precedes the pronouncement of beauty. "Let their be Light," says the Lord and only after calling it into being does (God) then reflect on its goodness... (p. 36)
I am going to reread Benson later this summer as his Biblical theology resonates with me as does his clearly expressed spirituality of jazz. There is a depth and breadth to Liturgy as a Way of Life that I will use regularly. But I have to say I was knocked out by the direct and passionate prose of Finding the Groove by Robert Gelinas. He is the pastor - and resident jazz theologian - at Colorado Community Church in Denver - and he knows his music. And his spirituality of jazz is clear: it begins with syncopation - an under valued groove grounded in the offbeat. "The offbeat has always been there, but hasn't always been heard... (and listening for the offbeat nourishes) an eye and ear for that which goes unnoticed and unheard in life. Jesus was a master of noticing the unnoticed." (p. 32)
And third there is a commitment to something both Benson and Heltzel wrote about: call and response. There is God's call in creation - and a response from this creation that keeps the creativity flowing. There is the call of Scripture and Tradition - and our response with lives of beauty, compassion and justice. There is the call of one instrument in a jazz combo - and the response of other players on the bandstand. There is the call of the music - and the response of the audience. And in this call and response there is an awareness of being in relationship - in community - with a world far greater than ourselves.
Community is something seriously considered by the writers in The Future of Jazz - an anthology of essays and responses from 10 jazz critics in the USA - for they are all concerned that currently American jazz seems trapped in its own history. There are pockets of innovation, but the mainstream of American jazz is looking backwards rather than towards the future of the genre and new possibilities. I know that I have certainly experienced this as a player and am starting to chart some new experiments using electronica and dance beats alongside sacred poetry and scripture. Finally, Ted Gioa's The Jazz Standards, offers a thorough and accessible one volume overview of the 300 essential tunes that all players of any depth know and wrestle with playing in new ways.
What strikes me as valuable for people of faith in each of these books is something Gioia wrote in his response to an essay "Black and White and Turning Grey" where he observes that while it is true that each player (each writer or person of faith, too) "relies on their heritage" at the start of any improvisation:
... the beauty of this art form - in contrast to our genetic pedigree - is that we can pick our parents, so to speak. Cal Tjader can choose Latin music as part of his heritage without identifying a drop of Latin blood in his veins. Andre Previn can claim an inheritance from Horace Silver. Stand Getz can select Lester Young as a father figure, who in turn finds his source of inspiration from Frankie Trumbauer. All this cuts across racial dividing lines. Hooray! Jazz stood out, at least for many decades, as one of the few arenas where some of us (maybe even most of us) could throw away the racial baggage that simmered throughout the rest of society and deal with each other through the unmediated channel of artistic collaboration. (Future of Jazz, p.31)
What he's talkin' about sounds a lot like the radically open table of Christ's feast to me - and THAT is good news.
credits
1) http://www.duduta.com/handmade-modern-jazz-art-oil-painting-on-canvas.html
2) Harold Smith, jazzsract @ http://www.multiculturalart.com/harold.html
3) 8 track radio @ 8tracks.com
4) Jazz and Art at Lincoln Center, greg betza @ www.gregbetza.com
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