Pieces of Silver

By Matt Silver

If there’s one thing that all the great jazz masters agree on, it’s that mimicry is not jazz, at least not good jazz. Maybe it’s part of the developmental process, but it’s the antithesis of what you strive to present to an audience.

By Matt Silver

There are some things in life you don’t want to perceive being made—laws and sausages chief among them. On the other hand, there are the yoga studio idealists whose wisdom suggests the opposite, that the process is everything, that life’s beauty resides in the journey, and that once you realize that, the destination becomes almost beside the point.

By Matt Silver

KSDS General Manager Ken Poston joined the Jazz Journalists’ Association’s (JJA) monthly podcast — “The Buzz” — this week for an authors’ panel discussing the three books published on and about Gerry Mulligan in the past year. One of those books—Being Gerry Mulligan: My Life in Music, the late baritone saxophonist’s autobiography as-told-to Poston—was a project thirty years in the making.

By Matt Silver

In 1957, Benny Golson wrote perhaps the most beautiful requiem in the jazz canon. Earnest and heart-wrenching “I Remember Clifford” is a bona fide standard, inspiring versions by Dizzy Gillespie, Art Blakey, Lee Morgan, Sonny Rollins, Quincy Jones, and nearly every jazz instrumentalist of consequence, including Golson himself.

But it begs the question: Do we follow the lead of Benny’s lament and do enough to remember Clifford ourselves? This year, we do. Here at KSDS, we aim to honor jazz’s great innovators, past and present. Clifford Brown, who tragically died four months shy of his 26th birthday in June 1956, is indisputably one of them.

By Matt Silver

One great thing about staff here at KSDS is their versatility. General Manager Ken Poston basically built a jazz museum from scratch; Production Director Michael Rovatsos plays bass in the West Coast’s premier U2 tribute band, and "Phat Tracks" host Gordon Goodwin has won four Grammys and been nominated for over 20 more. Which is why when I went to City College’s Saville Theatre last Tuesday night to see and hear Goodwin preside over a radio program broadcast before a live audience, I wasn’t that surprised when a full-fledged big band concert broke out.

Musicians…they just can’t help themselves.

The Christian Jacob Trio Doesn't Deconstruct Standards; They Reveal What's Been There the Whole Time

By Matt Silver

The Christian Jacob Trio. From left: Jacob on piano, Trey Henry on bass, Ray Brinker on drums. Photo by Larry Redman.

I’ve been writing about jazz since 2016, which is not an eternity but more than a minute, and I’m embarrassed to admit I’d never heard of pianist Christian Jacob until last Tuesday night. The reason I’m embarrassed is because Jacob’s chops, the staggering breadth of his musicality, warrant so much more than mere name recognition; they warrant the type of adulation given to all the other greats of today and yesterday— Brad Mehldau, Ethan Iverson, Joey Alexander, Chick Corea, Bill Evans, and even Monk before them—who approach jazz with the erudition of a classical concertmaster, a child’s playfulness, and an adolescent’s total disregard for boundaries.

Clint Eastwood’s Bird: The Good, The Bad, The Apocryphal

By Matt Silver

You get a pretty good sense "Bird's" intended visual aesthetic from its lobby card. Warner Bros., 1988.

Part I: Prologue, Immediate Reaction, Forrest Whitaker, Bird's Cinematography, and a General Verdict

Prologue

I approach Bird as someone who loves jazz generally and knows more than the casual fan but less than the historians who get paid to be historians. Having said that, these are my thoughts – the good, the bad, the ugly—about Clint Eastwood’s Bird (1988).

The famous filmmaker Spike Lee, whose father Bill Lee, a jazz musician, supposedly knew Charlie Parker well, has criticized Bird for overplaying Parker’s character and behavioral flaws and underplaying the warmth and sense of humor that drew people to him.

Lee may very well be right—I can’t say; I didn’t know Charlie Parker personally, nor do I know anyone who did. But my sense is that Lee, and others who have criticized Bird similarly, are overlooking the most obvious thing about this depiction: It’s a movie! A big-budget Hollywood entertainment for as broad an audience as there can ever be for something about jazz or a jazz musician. Lee, more than anyone, should recognize that Eastwood’s treatment of the subject is not a documentary; after all, Lee’s no stranger to based-on-a-true-story moviemaking. He's been good (Malcolm X) but far from perfect (Summer of Sam). Trying to balance historical accuracy and biographical integrity with commercial entertainment value is a razor’s edge for artists in every medium to walk.

Clint Eastwood’s “Bird”: The Good, The Bad, The Apocryphal

By Matt Silver

Bird, and to his left, Chet Baker, playing the San Diego Coliseum in Nov. 1953. Photo by Ross Burdick.

Part II: Parker’s Relationships

Bird and Chan

In Eastwood’s world, these are two people genuinely in love, genuinely in awe of one another, and unendingly antagonistic towards each other. They come from different worlds—Parker from early 20th century poverty in Kansas City, Chan from affluent Westchester, the daughter of a vaudeville producer and man of grand romantic gestures whom Parker strives to emulate, at least superficially, to win Chan’s heart (or, arguably, emotionally manipulate her, if you want to be a cynic about it). 

Chan’s rendering at times feels a little typecast; Eastwood really leans in to depicting her as the archetypal mid-century muse: a silver-tongued, bourgeois-bohemian enchantress, simply irresistible to any male creative type whose self-destructive tendencies are inextricable from his art. But I’ll give Eastwood the benefit of the doubt, since, one: this conception wasn’t nearly as trite 35 years ago as it is today; and two: the actors bring an inarticulable authority and credibility to the roles that makes it feel like they’re doing these real-life people justice; and three: it’s a friggin’ movie! 

Clint Eastwood’s “Bird”: The Good, The Bad, The Apocryphal

By Matt Silver

The real Buster Smith pioneered the so-called “Texas sound” on saxophone, played with Lester Young and Count Basie, and mentored Charlie Parker.

Part III: Apocrypha and Artistic License

The Curious Case of Buster Franklin

By most accounts, Bird’s Buster Franklin character, if not the film's primary black hat—that's probably vice-cop-cum-shakedown-artist, Estevez—then certainly its most emotionally resonant one, was meant to represent a fictional character cobbled together from different characters Parker would’ve known in real life. A so-called "composite character." But in real life, everything about the Buster character—aside from how he treats Parker— seems very consistent with a real person, Buster Smith.

Divinely Inspired Music and Humanity-Inspired Jokes Reign in Return of KSDS’s Jazz Live

By Matt Silver

The Charles McPherson Quintet feat. Gilbert Castellanos at San Diego City College's Saville Theatre in the return of Jazz Live, Aug. 8, 2023. Photo by Larry Redman.

“Thank you so much for being here,” Charles McPherson said with seeming earnestness as the rest of the band walked backstage for a set break. “Without your support [drawn out pause for effect], we’d probably be doing the exact same thing.”

Ninety-nine percent of musicians or performers of any kind would have reflexively trotted out the anodyne, “Without your support, none of this would be possible,” which maybe at one time made people feel seen and appreciated but has become just another vaguely well meaning, obligatory part of the artist-audience exchange.

Not Charles McPherson.