Profiling the Jazz Police

Jazz Police badge

From Old Skool Hooligans’ Jazz Police t-shirt; image used with permission.

The scene: Sweet Basil, New York City, 1994. The occasion: a swanky CD-release party for a young lion that burst on the scene a few years before. The remark: a Brooklyn-by-way-of-the-Midwest jazz singer introduces me to her friend. “Hey, I’d like you to meet Eugene Holley, Jr. He writes for Down Beat and JazzTimes,” she says. But after I shake her hand and turn away momentarily toward my table, I hear my vocalist friend say to her friend in a hushed voice, “Yeah, he’s one of the jazz police, but he’s cool.”

That’s when I first heard the term “jazz police.” At first, I paid it no mind. I thought it was one of the many linguistic inventions and dimensions spawned by musicians – one of many verbal turns of fancy that have weaved in and out of the jazz lingua franca from New Orleans to Manhattan.

But as the years moved on, I started hearing that phrase “jazz police” in more ominous terms. It usually refers to a belief among musicians that there is a cabal of jazz writers, reporters, and critics who influence, undermine, and control jazz musicians. They stifle the true expressions of the music by deciding who gets five-star reviews and who doesn’t, who gets the big recording contract and who’s forced to stay at the indie label, who wins the Grammy award and who gets the big non-profit grant, and who ends up playing their hearts out in the subway for next to nothing.

Really?

As someone who has had the tremendous privilege of working as a jazz writer, reporter, radio station music/program director, documentarian, and essayist for 25 years, I can honestly say that no such cabal of jazz police exists.

After all, policemen have salaries, vacations, and unions.

But, notwithstanding that admittedly feeble attempt at humor, the belief in a jazz police has become very toxic these days. So I’d like to offer the perspective of one who has been lumped in with that sordid circle. I want to add some harmony to the discord that exists between musicians and writers. I strongly feel that we need to deal with this myth of the jazz police; otherwise the future of our music will continue to dwindle in the coming years.

Now, just because I say that there is no jazz police doesn’t mean that writers haven’t exercised power to make or break careers. Of course that’s true. Jazz history is replete with writers whose whims, tastes, likes, and dislikes—for good or ill—have determined who is a star and who is not—as evidenced by the critic Martin Williams’s dismissal of the great Ahmad Jamal as a “cocktail pianist,” which other critics echoed for a very long time.

But I have some good news for musicians. While yes, a critic with an influential newspaper or magazine column might have been able to sway the public to like or dislike a jazz musician of his or her choosing back in the day, today no writer or critic has that kind of power. In the 21st century, the explosion of social media, blogs, and online listening services have irrevocably reduced the once-powerful pronouncements of writers and critics to, at best, well-informed observations and opinions.

A critic could write that a musician’s new CD is not his or her best work, but a few clicks and you can hear for yourself whether you agree with the writer’s opinion. A consumer can also share his or her opinions about any musician with other like-minded listeners in an instant. This type of democratized discourse did not exist thirty years ago, and I suspect it’s here to stay. And while sites like Facebook and Soundcloud feature fan reviews and accessible sound files, respectively, the democratic accessibility of that data does not guarantee that opinions offered by fans are any less biased than the professional critics. We are still in the Wild West stages of this phenomenon. And while writers and record companies have been taken down a notch, their digital demotion may be a pyrrhic victory, because it still rings with the spirit of “us” versus “them.”

And nobody wins that contest these days.

This digital age has also changed the power relationships between the jazz musician and the record industry to a large degree. If musicians have access to the internet, they can become their own record company. Artists can create their own websites, complete with gig updates, biographical information, audio samples, tour dates, and videos.

But for all of the aforementioned advances available to jazz in this era, there are still a significant number of musicians who speak of a jazz police.

As someone who knows and is in awe of the power and artistry of jazz musicians, I understand the frustrations, outrage, and disappointment they must feel when they have put their hearts and souls into a gig, a record, the road, and a career, only to see their careers marginalized by shrinking media coverage, unless they die and/or are featured in a PBS documentary. I particularly marvel at the young people, who become jazz musicians knowing what may befall them.

But let me get a little personal here. While I don’t claim to have met every major jazz writer in the years I’ve been on the scene, I have had the profound privilege of knowing quite a few of them: Stanley Crouch, Gary Giddins, Gene Seymour, John Murph, Willard Jenkins, Kelvin Williams, Jackie Modeste, Guthrie Ramsey, Robert G. O’Meally, Greg Thomas, A.B. Spellman, and two giants who left us recently—Albert Murray and Amiri Baraka. I have never seen them huddle to block anyone’s career. Musicians may not have liked everything they wrote, but I will go on record to insist that, at least with the people I mentioned, I saw no evidence of the jazz police some musicians talk about.

Yes, it is true that negative reviews—however crude, ill-informed, and distasteful they may be—do sell magazines and, in many cases, help establish the writer’s voice. Terry Teachout’s acerbic and condescending biography of Duke Ellington is one recent example. However, the notion of a jazz police that profits off of the misfortunes of musicians is downright unsupportable. I know a few known and unknown bards who are the antithesis of a jazz police; individuals who, without notoriety or fanfare, made great sacrifices for this music.

William A. “Bill” Brower of Washington, D.C., is a writer, concert producer, and former stage manager for the New Orleans Jazz Heritage Festival and Classic Jazz at Lincoln Center.

The late Bobby Jackson was the former program director of WCLK-FM in Atlanta and jazz programmer of Cleveland’s WCPN-FM.

Skip Norris is an intrepid Detroit entrepreneur who produces swinging gigs in the Motor City.

Zoe Anglesey and Tom Terrell, who both left us far too soon, and Arnold J. Smith are three Brooklyn-based, all-around guardian angels whose writings and work in the record industry have illuminated the scene.

If musicians want to search for a jazz police, they need look no further than themselves. The same digital revolution that has diminished the power of music critics and heavy-handed record producers has also exposed how some jazz musicians undermine and sabotage each other. Without naming names, writers have heard horror stories over the years: A musician sends someone to the wrong gig for an audition for a major jazz group. A group of sidemen on a recording session don’t like one person they’re playing with, and they purposely play badly to ruin the session. And most recently, a jazz pianist won a MacArthur grant and some musicians actually posted on his Facebook page the reasons why they didn’t feel he deserved the award.

My purpose is relating these examples, is not to hurt or embarrass musicians. But, as corny as it sounds, it’s to encourage musicians to treat each other better; and to emphasize that today, in an age where all jazz artists in America are underrated, musicians should know that, in my opinion, the overwhelming majority of jazz scribes and other individuals in the jazz infrastructure are there to help them, and, more importantly, the music.

We’re all trying to swing.

***

EugeneHolley

Eugene Holley, Jr. contributes to: Publisher’s Weekly, Purejazz magazine, Philadelphia Weekly and NPR: A Blog Supreme.

31 thoughts on “Profiling the Jazz Police

  1. Pingback: Who are the (Jazz) Police? | BOSTRON AND HIS RANTS

  2. Michael Morse

    A very thoughtful and fair-minded piece, Mr. Holley. But I think you may have missed the forest for the trees. The “jazz police” notion works at a broader level than the individual good or bad performance, or even the individual good or bad performer. There is an abstract notion of what jazz is *supposed* to be–sorry, “sposed-ta be”–and failure to conform to that standard loses you gigs, respect, and opportunity. For last few decades, the Gunther Toody & Francis Muldoon of the jazz police are Stanley Crouch and Wynton Marsalis, whose inflexible and ponderous conception of what jazz is and isn’t leaves out a growing percentage of its best music and best musicians, including some of its most important and influential creators. The difference between these coppers and the old-timers is that individual opinion used to be just that and no more. Crouch and Marsalis and the rest of the boys in blues have managed to institutionalize their taste and, even worse, make taste institutionalization the model for how to relate to music and musicians. The consequences for the music have been anything but healthy.

    Reply
  3. Howard Mandel

    Nice article, Eugene. Musicians seem to media exerts undue influence because who else can be blamed? But the culprit isn’t a person or profession, as you point out. And Michael Morse’s identification of Wynton and Stanley is interesting, highlighting the influence of the most prominent musician in jazz. Without Wynton, Stanley’s views (long published in the Village Voice among other publication) were just another’s voice in the winds. It’s a high profile bully pulpit, lifted by institutional and corporate financial support, that gives any opinion more than individual power.

    Reply
  4. Joyce Paulson

    West Coast jazz has been my mainstay since I was born and raised in L.A. I worked as staff in a couple of clubs for about 20 years, had the pleasure of getting to know Leonard Feather, Zan Stewart, Don Heckman and Scott Yanow among others. Of course I also got to know just about any musician who held the spotlight during those years. Some I enjoyed, some pulled my last nerve. But I found that even with the most harsh review the reviewers I’ve mentioned found a way to say something either encouraging or forgiving. Jazz Police? Maybe, but I’d prefer to think of them as crossing guards.

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  5. Paul F. Etcheverry

    Thanks, Eugene. I disliked the “Ken Burns Jazz” documentary for the reasons Mr. Morse outlined. It’s not history if you simply omit the writers, musicians, visual artists, etc. you don’t like.

    Reply
  6. Allen Lowe

    good piece; only problem is that I know of one critic on your list who threatened a famous mnusician for a reason I won’t say (it would give away his id), and effectively kept him out of one famous venue for not complying with a request he made. So….maybe he wasn’t the jazz police, more like the Jazz National Guard.

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  7. Mark Hayes

    Mr. Holley —

    Thanks for a calm, thoughtful, and well-informed article. Although I am relatively new to the dance, the musicians and critics I’ve interacted with over the years — the ones I communicate best with, I suppose — have a particular uneasiness with the term “jazz,” anyway. There are few surer ways to ignite passions than to begin a conversation about the definition of jazz. Some listeners and professional critics love to weigh in heavily on the matter; many do not, as its a conversation that is perhaps not well-suited to the fundamental nature of jazz — which, although it has increasingly well-defined roots, has always been open to change and outside influence. Maybe the problem lies in the fact that when some people say “jazz,” they have a definition in mind. When others say “jazz,” they simply mean a very open, dynamic musical form and mode of performance that is open to influences from all over and to improvisation from all. But then that sounds like a definition, doesn’t it? And definitions operate much like laws, and laws are often enforced by police. I’m no police officer;I know that. I just love to listen.

    Reply
  8. Chip crawford

    I never thought the term Jazz police referred to critics. On second thought of course it does but in my experience it is usually referred to as musicians such as myself making judgments on each other’s playing. The term Jazz snobbery comes to mind as well. I have found that there are so many approaches and schools to this music it’s easy to lump a musician you’re listening to into one of those approaches or schools. Ah! He/she is a monster trumps all of that. But if he or she is not a monster they start falling into those categories. He /she is a (Coletrane Wayne shorter Joe Henderson clone) or at least u r coming from somebody. It can be a put down., perceived as a putdown or meant as a compliment. He/ she has great technique or no soul, bad time or too inside, Many of us look for the flaw rather than what they’ve got to express. But jazz police most often refers to not knowing the changes to a song. Hey we all can forget. I played seven years in St. Nick’s pub where there were no jazz police. If I had been a jazz policeman there and had issued tickets I would be a multimillionaire now. I would watch musicians almost come in St. nicks pub turn up the nose and make statements like “there is no swinging going on there”. And at that moment they were probably totally correct. Singers singing in other keys forgetting the lyrics. Hardly anyone could play changes. Horn players played a major scale over everything. And were not interrupted they were allowed to play to the point of pain. But a funny thing happened after years of that. A real tolerance and humility allowed an atmosphere of positivity and somewhat drug and booze infected spirituality. I feel I learned a lot about music and life without the jazz police.

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  9. Max Power

    Regardless of your opinion of Wynton Marsalis and Stanley Crouch, they should not be referred to as boys.

    Reply
        1. Max Power

          Men, especially men of color, should not be referred to as boy. If you want to be in the jazz world, it will be with a civil mind. No exceptions.

          Reply
          1. Michael Morse

            Indeed, indeed; language is a problem, because so many of its words mean very different things in different contexts. But there’s no such thing as too much dalliance where racism is concerned. Hence we shouldn’t dare to doubt that rigidly enforcing bans on archaic senses and slang from decades ago will preserve us from danger.

            Reply
  10. Declan Lewis

    I agree entirely with Howard Mandel — see Thought #2 — despite the two errata in his text:- an omitted word (probably Howard intended ‘think’) between ‘Musicians seem to’ and ‘media'; and surely ‘publication’ should have been in the plural, as ‘publications'; thoughts are processed much faster than typing them out, huh? But anyway… Yes, a very fine piece indeed, Eugene. It is in fact The Jazz Secret Police of whom we should beware. Nah, just joshin’.

    Reply
  11. David Berkman

    I’ll second one of the posts above–the jazz police aren’t generally critics, but are musicians, generally conservative or traditionalist musicians (also sometimes referred to as bebop police) who set themselves up as arbiters (or are perceived by other musicians as having set themselves up as arbiters) to determine what is and isn’t jazz. Sometimes they’re kind of fictional–someone plays something out in a somewhat straight ahead context and a player might say, ‘watch out I’m going to call the jazz police’. It’s usually meant in a tongue-in-cheek or sarcastic way. I’m not going to say that Stanley Crouch and Wynton Marsalis weren’t at one point thought of as jazz policemen–I guess they were, but the term is larger than that (yawn) somewhat dated controversy.

    Reply
  12. John Kelman

    Nice article, Eugene. As a writer who’s not got quite as many years experience, I will, however, disagree with your fundamental definition of what the ‘jazz police’ has come to mean today…acknowledging that what it meant back in its nascent days may have been something very different.

    These days, from the musicians I speak to, including a lot of young musicians from around the world, ‘jazz police’ doesn’t refer strictly to writers, nor does it mean anything about some secret cabal wth great influence and power. It simply means this: anyone who defines jazz in narrow, reductionist terms, and refuses to acknowledge that jazz, like any other music, lives and breathes because it evolves and, yes, changes with time. It refers to people who refuse to acknowledge artists as playing jazz because their adherence to the American jazz tradition is either completely invisible or, at best, only barely there to be seen. This applies, often, to young European jazz musicians whose work bears little resemblance to the American tradition: it’s not blues-based, it doesn’t swing in the conventional way, etc.

    That jazz emerged as an American art form is largely irrefutable (though I know another writer who has some very radical ideas about even that); that it has, in the past five decades, gone global is equally unarguable. Prior to the sixties, if you listen to jazz being played in most countries outside of the US, you’ll largely find a bunch of people playing pale imitations of the American mainstream tradition. But in the sixties, in countries as geographically separated as Norway, the United Kingdom and Germany, you’ll find that suddenly, for reasons unknown to me at this point, things changed. Jazz has always been, IMO, an inclusionary art form, one which embraces other musical traditions and turns them into something…else. So what began to happen, let’s say in Norway, where I have spent a lot of time, is that musicians began to bring their own traditions – choral music, marching brass bands and traditional folk music, to name but three – into the music, transforming it while, at the same time, somehow retaining the freedom to interpret and extemporize that is, at least, one significant touchstone of jazz from the US.

    And why shouldn’t they? After all, many of these musicians – especially the younger ones (and we’re seeing this in North America too now) – never grew up in homes where the music they heard was from the broadway shows and movies that came to be known as the Great American Songbook, as well as the jazz compositions that have since entered the canon of the jazz tradition. That music was not part of their DNA, so to speak; instead, their parents were listening to folk music from their country along with healthy dollops of rock music, ambient music etc, and the kids were participating in school marching bands, which is where most began learning the instruments upon which they’d later specialize.

    So, is it any surprise that their music doesn’t sound, anything like the jazz we grew up with? And is it simply hubris and a proprietary sense of nature that keeps us from accepting that it is, indeed, jazz?

    One the is also certain: many of these artists don’t play jazz, but they HAVE studied it…even recorded it. Norwegian saxophonist Jan Garbarek may no longer play anything that remotely resembles the American tradition, but when he blows through the changes of Carla Bley’s “Syndrome” on German bassist Eberhard Weber’s 2007 ECM recording, Stages of a Long Journey like a man possessed, swinging his ass off, it becomes patently clear that he still CAN play jazz in the more traditional sense; he just chooses NOT to. Ditto Norwegian trumpeter Arve Henriksen, whose music bears little direct affinity for the American tradition: but check out th version of Sketches of Spain, performed by the Norwegian Wind Ensemble and conducted by American composer/arranger/bandleader Maria Schneider (brought to Norway for the live performance and recording), and it becomes equally clear that he’s spent no small time with the tradition…but when it coes to his own music, he feels that it would be untrue to who he is to play anything but what he does.

    All this longwindedness to point out that the jazz police who attack folks like Garbarek and Henriksen as being ‘not jazz’ are often met with either two responses: first, that it is jazz, but with different cultural roots it cannot sound anything but how it does; and second, if the jazz police say it ain’t jazz, maybe they’re right….and who cares?

    And while anyone can be a card-carrying member of the Jazz Police, that does mean that some writers, at least, are indeed members. And because any decent, established writer who is read in outlets like Down Beat, Jazz Times or All About Jazz has the ability to influence at least some of those periodicals’ readers, then it means us writer must be held to a higher standard when it comes to the reasons we critique music. Some writers agree with me in this, others vehemently deny it. My own philosophy has been a simple one: while most good writers are knowledgeable folks, they are not the arbiters of what is good or bad; they are only the arbiters of what they like (or don’t). If a film critic hates horror movies, it seems rather pointless for them to review ‘em; ditto, jazz writers who have no affiliation with the new music being made today under the name of jazz should not review it, because they come from an inherently negative and, frankly, uninformed position to do so.

    So,while I understand your wanting to clear the air from the perspective of a writer who has been called ‘jazz poice’ (as have I), I just wanted to respectfully counter with a different definition of what jazz police are: essentially, folks who – especially since the early ’80s revisionism of many of the young lions like Wynton Marsalis who still, in recent years, have opened themselves up to the possibility that what’s being played elsewhere IS jazz, it’s just not the jazz you, your daddy and your granddaddy always thought it was. Jazz Police refers to anyone who feels that they know what jazz is, and that the music being made by artists from other countries around the world ain’t Jazz if it doesn’t fit their narrow, reductionist definition.

    BTW, most of those musicians couldn’t give two hoots whether or not these folks accept their music as jazz; more and more, they prefer to just call it music, and hope that it’s assessed based on that old adage of there being two kinds: the good stuff….and the other kind.

    Cheers, and again, congrats on a fine piece.
    John Kelman,
    Former Managing Editor and now Senior Contributor, AllAboutJazz.com

    Reply
  13. Lyn Horton

    I wish everything you said were true, Eugene.
    Writers do a good job of keeping writers off the page. I was one of them, one of the writers kept off the page.
    Thanks for your insight.

    Reply
  14. Bill Kirchner

    Eugene, you make some interesting points. And I’ve always regarded you as well-informed and fair-minded. So it’s unfortunate to read your gratuitous and uncalled-for comment about Terry Teachout’s Ellington biography. In my view, there is nothing “acerbic and condescending” about the book, which has received mostly favorable reviews.

    I’ve taught a “Music of Duke Ellington” course at Manhattan School of Music since 2004. I adopted Teachout’s book this year as required reading for my students, and this spring I had him come and speak to them. He had them spellbound for an hour.

    Teachout is one of the smartest and fairest writers–make that persons–I know. I also know for a fact that he has enormous respect for Ellington the artist and man. He described Ellington to my students as “a genius.” I think that his book reflects that respect, though he doesn’t hesitate to deal candidly with Ellington’s personal issues. That’s what a good biographer is supposed to do. If some people take issue with that candor, that’s their problem. Duke Ellington had his strengths and shortcomings just like everyone else.

    Reply
    1. Eugene Holley, Jr.

      Dear Bill Kirchner:

      Hi Bill:

      First, before I address your comments, I want to take this time to thank all of those read my essay. I especially appreciate the civility of the comments.

      Now, Bill – and, let me say upfront – that I highly regard you as a colleague, but more importantly, as a scholar in our field; one who should be read at all times.

      You have an issue with my characterization of Terry Teachout’s views on Ellington; fair enough.

      Let me expound on why I feel the way I do.

      Yes, Mr. Teachout is a smart man. That is why his biography on Ellington is strange to me.

      Anyone who really knows Ellington, also knows the insane musical, and – dare I say it – racial prejudices he endured in his life. Those prejudices manifested themselves in some of the following dictums that I know you’ve heard: “Ellington is not really a great composer.” “Ellington stole most of his compositions from his sideman.” “Billy Strayhorn is the real compositional brains behind Ellington.” And (the most insulting to this African-American writer), “Ellington is not really, authentically ‘Black’.”

      Whether knowingly, or unknowingly, Teachout alludes to, and implies, many of those mistruths in his book. I do not require that Mr. Teachout love Ellington, or even like him personally. But I – and many major jazz writers I’ve conferred with – thought that many of his opinions about Ellington did not rise to the scholarly level one would expect from someone of Mr. Teachout’s undeniable writing talents.

      Yes, Bill, you are right: a good biographer should, and must, delve into the murky inventions and dimensions of a subject’s personal life. But when someone of Mr. Teachout’s stature puts together a book such as his book on Ellington … a book that revives some of the crazy, ill-founded, and yes, racial (notice I didn’t say racist) clichés, and half-truths, some writers, like myself, will respond.

      Respectfully,

      Eugene Holley, Jr.

      P.S. I would have loved for Albert Murray to have read Teachout’s book.

      Reply
  15. Declan Lewis

    Would you care to expand on your comment, Lyn Horton, or perhaps give a hint/link? I’m intrigued. Cheers.

    Reply
  16. Bill Kirchner

    Hi Eugene:

    First, thank you for your kind words.

    My own opinion, as a jazz musician and scholar, is that Teachout’s Ellington book is fair, well-written, and well-researched. And that he does not espouse any of the positions you list above. Nor does he believe them. I know him quite well and am in a position to say that.

    He does discuss in detail the nature of some of Ellington’s collaborations with other musicians–Billy Strayhorn, Barney Bigard (“Mood Indigo”), and Lawrence Brown and Otto Hardwick (“Sophisticated Lady”).

    By the way, anyone who wants to know the precise, bar-by-bar nature of Strayhorn’s contributions to Ellingtonia should read Walter van de Leur’s exemplary study, SOMETHING TO LIVE FOR: THE MUSIC OF BILLY STRAYHORN, which Teachout quotes several times.

    Reply
  17. Eugene Holley, Jr. Post author

    Dear Bill:

    Respectfully, I would not have made my comments if did not find evidence in the book.

    Yes, Ellington’s collaborations with Brown, Bigard and Hardwick are noted. But there’s a clear implication in the book that Ellington was mostly a thief – that’s not cool.

    Yes, Mr. Teachout takes much from Mr. van de Leur’s excellent Strayhorn book. I take issue with how far he takes van De Leur’s work and analysis.

    Finally, since this thread is really not about the focus of my essay. I’d be more than happy to continue this by personal email and/or telephone. There are many jazz writers who feel even more strongly about Teachout’s book than I do.

    That aside, thank you again, for reading the essay. And keep up your good work.

    Sincerely,

    Eugene Holley, Jr.

    Reply
  18. Bill Kirchner

    Dear Eugene:

    Re your comment that “… But there’s a clear implication in the book that Ellington was mostly a thief.” Let’s just say that I don’t read that at all. And I know that Teachout doesn’t believe that. ‘Nuff said.

    Best,
    Bill

    Reply
  19. Howard Mandel

    Rejection is a hard thing for writers to deal with, as much as criticism seems to be for musicians. However, for freelance writers rejection is a fact of life, and something we must learn to deal with (usually by figuring out what was wrong or inappropriate to editors about our pitches, our stories, our points of view. With the failing of so many publications and platforms, it could be devastating to be rejected by one publication or another. It’s a find thing, but not necessarily to be expected, when a rejecting editor explains why. Rejection itself is no reason to think a cabal of jazz police is out to stop one’s writing. And that’s the nice thing about blogging today — we can publish ourselves, anyway. Just as musicians (at considerable cost of energy and concentration) now more than ever put out their own recordings, produce their own gigs, etc.

    Reply
  20. Declan Lewis

    Any Jazz Arbitrators out there? Ex-Jazz Police officers need not apply.

    Meanwhile, I do feel the need to re-read (now with extra care) both TT’s biography of DE and WvdL’s STLF:TMoBS, obviously owing to the politely expressed contention by Mr Holley and Mr Kirchner here.

    Hey, Lyn Horton, many thanks for having renamed me as Daclan — I may use it as a nom de plume, if that’s all right with you.

    Appreciation and gratitude go out to Howard Mandel for being utterly brilliant, as usual.

    Good day, all. I got me a coupla books to study…

    Peace and Love from Liverpool, UK.
    Daclan.

    Reply
  21. Janis Lane-Ewart

    Eugene,
    Thanks for this healthy observation of the concept of “the jazz police” and for the array of journalists you’ve noted in your article. I’d like to encourage additional comments, therefore will share the link to this item via my FB page. Keep your voice out here Eugene!!!

    Respectfully,
    Janis

    Reply

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