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- When will classical music get its own Mercury prize? | Tom Service
The Mercury music prize combines star power and industry credibility – isn't it time that classical music had something similar?
I return to the blogosphere to find there's another debate on concert etiquette going on, triggered by the nation's favourite grey-haired electronica maestro, Jonathan Harvey – I agree with commenter MVMountwood, who said he wished that Harvey's music "routinely attracted as much media attention" as his comments on classical music culture – and to see that Mark-Anthony Turnage has ripped off Beyoncé at the Proms. And also to find that minimalist indie band the xx have walked away with this year's Mercury music prize.
These events prompted the following thoughts, in no particular order. Firstly, that classical music still lacks any award ceremony to match the combination of media impact and artistic seriousness of the Mercurys or the Turner prize (and no, the Classical Brits and their record-industry back-slapping don't count). The nearest we have are the venerable Royal Philharmonic Society awards and the PRS new music award.
The PRS gong ought to be the real Turner equivalent. The winner, announced on the 16 September, gets £50,000 for a new piece of music – more than twice as much as the Mercury victors will get, and double the amount Britain's most prestigious art prize nets its winner. The difference with the PRS award is that the cash goes on producing the composers's ideas, not straight into their bank account in honour of work they've already done. In previous years, this has meant digging a big hole for Jem Finer's Score for a Hole in the Ground, and creating a nationwide virtual instrument for The Fragmented Orchestra.
Collectively, however, the vision of "new music" the PRS advocates on its shortlist is just plain weird: a range of inoffensive, mostly genreless sound-art and new-instrument ideas that will upset no one, that ticks boxes marked "politically correct" and "innovative", but that will sadly end up making as much difference to the media and musical culture as a wet sock on laundry day.
I hope I'm proved wrong, but is this really the best use of the nation's most generous financial award for new music? How about giving the money for a piece the PRS can actually collect royalties from: a new orchestral work that uses live electronics, or an album that puts a cutting-edge classical composer alongside a studio artist (to pick only two of many ideas that might stand a better chance of pricking the public consciousness)?
Thought number two, regarding concert etiquette. Here's Hector Berlioz writing about going to the opera in Paris in the mid-1820s:
As I was intimately acquainted with every note of the score, the performers, if they were wise, played it as it was written; I would have died rather than allow the slightest liberty with the old masters to pass unnoticed. I had not notion of biding my time and coldly protesting in writing against such a crime – oh dear, no! – I apostrophised the delinquents then and there in my loudest voice, and I can testify than no form of criticism goes so straight home as that ... Accordingly, when the Scythian ballet [in Gluck's Iphigénie en Tauride] began I lay in wait for my cymbals ... Boiling with anger ... I shouted out with all my might, "There are no cymbals there; who has dared to correct Gluck?" ... But it was worse in the third act, where the trombones in Orestes' monologue were suppressed, just as I feared they would be; and the same voice was heard shouting out, "Not a sign of a trombone; it is intolerable!"
I have long wanted to try this at concerts when a conductor, orchestra, or singer is up there massacring one of my favourite pieces, but have so far lacked the courage of my convictions. Until now. Let's bring back Berlioz's instant feedback system at concerts. Jonathan Harvey would surely agree with me.
And so to the final item on the agenda: the Turnage-Beyoncé stooshie. It would all surely have mattered more if the new piece weren't so unimaginative in what it did with its material, whatever its provenance. But that's just, like, my opinion, man.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
Переслать - Mercury prize 2010: The xx were a safe choice, but the right one
With hushed, early-hours dynamics and an undertow of sexual desire, the xx's debut album is a compelling listen. But that probably wasn't the only reason the judges picked it ...
Video: Rosie Swash on the Mercury red carpet
Live blog: Relive the night as it happenedIt's always worth remembering that the whole point of the Mercury prize is to sell records. The story of its creation bears repeating, not least because the prize itself – always big on high-mindedness of the "all-that-matters-is-the-music" variety – seems so keen that it's forgotten. You don't find any mention of John "Webbo" Webster on its website, which seems a bit unfair because, as well as being the man who gave the world Now That's What I Call Music ... compilations, he devised the awards while head of marketing at Virgin Records.
In fact, the Mercury has more in common with Webster's other big idea than it would like to think. Just as Now That's What I Call Music ... was, and is, about squeezing out extra revenue by recycling old hits, so the prize was initiated for purely commercial reasons, with no more high-minded intent than dragging record buyers of a certain age into shops during the traditionally dead summer sales period: the appointment of august rock critic and academic Simon Frith as chair of the judges was suggested by music industry trade association the BPI to emphasise the independence of the awards.
By the criteria on which the prize was founded, last year's event was an unmitigated disaster. Whatever the musical value of Speech Debelle's Speech Therapy, it's difficult to see how the 2009 Mercurys could have more thoroughly discouraged potential buyers from visiting record shops without sending the judging panel out to squirt superglue through their locks: Speech Therapy sold 10,000 copies and failed to make the top 40.
This year's shortlist clearly attempted to militate against something similar happening again. Largely filled with bands who'd already had a degree of commercial success, it was low on surprises, but high on quality – you could make at least some case for giving the prize to almost everyone on the shortlist. That said, the xx's eponymous debut may well have the most convincing claim to the prize. An opaque and unassuming album on first listen, its hushed, early-hours dynamics and undertow of sexual desire gradually work their way under the skin of the listener: there's something nagging and compelling about the songwriting. The band's influences are drawn from outside the indie canon – the xx are famously fans of modern R&B, which might account for the album's preoccupation with sultry yearning, not a mood indie music traditionally conjures: it sounds original, but isn't abstruse enough to scare less adventurous listeners. Already on an upward trajectory, you can imagine the profile boost of the Mercury finally pushing the xx firmly into the mainstream. Without wishing to detract in any way from the album's musical qualities – it could well be the best album released in the past 12 months – it's hard not to conclude that might have been a deciding factor in its victory.
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More FeedsПереслать - Marilyn Manson loses make-up, gains a mullet
The shock-rocker shows the world the real Brian Warner for HBO comedy Eastbound and Down
Visually, Marilyn Manson is perhaps best known for his distinctive trenchcoat/maroon lipstick/weird big-eye-little-eye makeup combo. So we were as surprised as anyone to see this press shot of him ahead of an appearance on HBO comedy Eastbound and Down, of which the rocker is apparently a big fan, wearing a baseball shirt and a noticeable lack of makeup. And sporting a mullet, no less. So, which look do you prefer?
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More FeedsПереслать - Mercury prize 2010: Live blog
Which of the 12 nominees will take home the Mercury prize? And what passes for a decent starter in the world of music these days? Follow our live blog tonight for all this and more ...
12.17am: Hello and welcome. Two years ago you may recall that I live blogged the Mercury prize. It was a momentous occasion. The New York Times, for instance, described it as "an unpredictable literary whirlwind, why hasn't this Jonze been promoted?". And most set texts regard it as a peak of modern journalism that will surely never be topped. At least I assume that's why I haven't been asked to do another one in the past two years. Anyway ... to cut a long waffle short, I'm back in business and from 6pm today you can catch me blogging my knuckles to the bone live from Grosvenor House in London. Who will win? Who will do a runner? And who will make an embarrassing fool of themselves after too much free pinot grigio? As long as the answer to the last question isn't "me", this should be a lot of fun.
Oh, and to keep you occupied up until that point, here's the list of nominees:
Biffy Clyro – Only Revolutions
Corinne Bailey Rae – The Sea
Dizzee Rascal – Tongue n' Cheek
Foals – Total Life Forever
I Am Kloot – Sky at Night
Kit Downes Trio – Golden
Laura Marling – I Speak Because I Can
Mumford & Sons – Sigh No More
Paul Weller – Wake Up the Nation
Villagers – Becoming a Jackal
Wild Beasts – Two Dancers
The xx – xxYou can remind yourselves what they sound like by watching our rather brilliant How I wrote sessions, put together with the Observer New Review team.
6.25pm: Ok, I'm in, perched on the balcony cheap seat (I've got the only seat) looking down on the posh tables. Sniff. After watching a very boring red carpet ceremony in which I did not – in any way, shape or form – sneak off for a cheeky gin and tonic in the bar, I am looking forward to some action. Rosie Swash has been on the red carpet with a tabloid reporter who confessed to not knowing a single band ("I'd rather be at the GQ awards – there's proper celebrities there"). What does she mean? Did she not know Tom from Wild Beasts was coming?
Talking of which, jonbeat is in the comments section here chanting for "foals, foals, foals, foals" whereas there's a general feeling (fear?) that Weller will win despite him "not deserving it". We'll find out in a second as it looks like Weller's about to take the stage ...
6.37pm: Who should win? It seems you lot can't decide. Knowles1 reckons that the xx or Wild Beasts deserve it, wheras Biffy "wouldn't be a terrible choice". I have to say that's almost exactly my thoughts too. The xx album actually sounds like it was made in the last year (unlike most of the nominees on the list) although I can't help feeling they had their moment in the sun with all the Album of the Year gongs last year. Because of that I'm joining Rosie Swash who seems to be frequenting Twitter on an hourly basis to shout "Wild Beasts WILD BEASTS" at all her followers.
6.56pm: Jools Holland is on stage! The only stage (there's three) that I can't see because I'm sat behind a bloody big speaker stack. Jools says that U2 are part of the show! Oh, "you too", sorry.
6.56pm: "Thank you Barclay card," says Jools to bizarrely wild applause that goes on for ages. Do that many people really have such affection for plastic-based credit? What are they going to be like when they announce the musicians?
7.00pm: maceasy says "What was the Speech Debelle debacle? I bought the album last year, and it is excellent." Fair point, just because few people bought it doesn't mean the result is somehow invalid. Right, Paul Weller and his haircut are on stage.
7.01pm: There's been much talk of Weller's "eccentric" and "avant garde" career revival. Personally, he just seems to be playing mod rock songs that are over in two minutes, but I'm not here to crush any myths.
Christ, Weller's gone already, that was quick. He had a great guitar - a butterscotch blonde telecaster, for fans of that kind of thing. Now it's Wild Beasts and Rosie Swash is screaming from the balcony: "WOOOOOOO!"
7.06pm: Wild Beasts on now doing Hooting and Howling. All I can hear is "WOOOOOOOO!"
7.07pm: I'd love these guys to win but they're such a Marmite band I can't see it happening. The chance of anything approaching a unanimous decision over these guys is pretty unlikely. Most people I know can't even say their name without putting on a dramatic falsetto voice.
Here's the live session they did for us, if you want to recreate the scenes here. For added authenticity, hunch over a laptop with bad WiFi connection and type until your knuckles bleed while a colleague shrieks in your left ear.
7.12pm: Without skipping a beat, the xx are on. Wild applause (although not as much as for everyone's favourite band Barclay Card) when they finish. Rumour is they're going to win, not just from bookies but from what people know already about the judge's personal tastes – NME editor Krissi Murison put them on the cover, Jude Rogers loves them, etc.
ENOUGH OF THIS! SIMON NEIL FROM BIFFY CLYRO IS ON STAGE WITH HIS NIPPLES OUT!!!
7.21pm: In case you're sitting there frantically hitting "refresh" after my last announcement, there is no more news. Biffy Clyro were tuning up topless. Now they have gone.
7.27pm: Biffy Clyro are on. They're playing Captain. I spent most of my time as a music journo at the NME ignoring/mocking this band but, you know what, I was wrong. Only Revolutions has more planet-sized tunes than any other nominee – it's basically the pop fan's choice here, even if they do dress their songs up with wiggly guitar riffs and big stadium rock dynamics. So there you go.
Anyway, they're now playing a Dizzee video because Dizzee ain't here. I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say that what I really need right now is a really quiet version of Bonkers.
7.32pm: Oh, Dizzee IS here. He just didn't play. He's doing a speech instead. Has he popped in from the GQ Awards?
7.33pm: There's barely a pause for breath. Laura Marling is on. The first time I Speak Because I Can has been played straight after Bonkers, I'd wager.
7.36pm: marckee has joined us to show some rather back-handed love for overlooked jazz nominees, the Kit Downes Trio. "None of the shortlisted albums really excited me. Wild Beasts and Kit Downes Trio are the pick of a polished, but unremarkable bunch. As long as the braying Mumford and Sons, the pseudish Foals and the pacified Biffy Clyro don't win, I'll be happy."
Not that I'm on commission to push our live sessions or anything, but I thought this was a rather lovely song.
7.38pm: A brief break, says Jools. Which is good because I don't think anyone really wants to read me live blogging my own bladder bursting. See you in a sec.
7.45pm: Pakistan all out for 89, Bresnan delivers a stormi ... sorry, wrong live blog. Still not much happening here. Although I can see I Am Kloot tuning up. They have a string section.
7.51pm: Maybe now is the time to have a chat about who should have been nominated but wasn't. Any suggestions commenters? Hot Chip with their best album yet, One Life Stand? These New Puritans classical/art-rock fusion Hidden? Richard Hawley's stripped back sixth album Truelove's Gutter? Any of those would have been worthy winners, let alone nominees I reckon.
7.56pm: "All the nominees are shite so who cares .....there is no great music around any more," says rsaviour. And you know what? They're dead right. I'm packing up, see you same time next year. Good night!
8.00pm: I Am Kloot have been and gone, and before I can get my act together Corinne Bailey Rae is doing her thank you speech. It means so much to her to be nominated etc. Rosie Swash's theory is that the nominees who don't think they've got a chance of winning give it their all with a Kate Winslet-style meltdown when all they really need to say is "thank you for my nomination". It backfired in 2008 when Elbow blurted their hearts out during their nominee speech and had to do it all again an hour or so later when they won. Although actually that was kinda sweet.
8.02pm: Kit Downes Trio are playing Jump, Minzi, Jump. Chatter in the room has increased ten-fold, which is pretty damn rude if you ask me. Someone shouts "shhhh". Everyone shuts up.
8.19pm: marckee says "I'd have like to have seen any of Fuck Buttons, Four Tet, Steve Mason, Male Bonding and Ikonika in there. Did the Mount Kimbie album fall into this year's nomination period? If so, that one too."
When the nominations were announced there was a lot of talk about Fuck Buttons missing out, along with rumours that they hadn't actually put their album forward. Either the band thought winning was a bit of an albatross, or they didn't want to have to make Jools Holland say "fuck" on the BBC.
Foals are on now playing Spanish Sahara, not the most immediate track from Total Life Forever I have to say.
8.24pm: Villagers are on, Villagers being a guy called Conor who looks - and sounds - like another Conor, Bright Eyes frontman Conor Oberst. His performance is more intimate and captivating than anything else we've had on tonight. There's an awful lot of folk (or nu-folk as I'm trying not to call it) on the list tonight, but at least Villagers play a twisted version of it.
8.25pm: Mumford and Sons. Have to say, the atmosphere is really polite this year. Polite being a polite way of saying dull.
No sooner have I spoken than there is drama - Mumford's double bass is out of action! A couple of deafening booms and now it's not making a sound. It's like the Pistols at the 100 Club or something. Can you remember where you were when Mumfords played the Mercury Prize?
8.29pm: Now I'm no Mumfords fan but you can at least see from that performance of the Cave why they're selling a gazillion records at the moment. Frenzied, uplifting pop tunes that don't mind doing their little barn dance in the middle of the road.
8.32pm: Wow, the performances are over already. No they're not! Mumfords are coming back on to do it with their bass working. In other news, Sex Pistols to perform again with no spitting while Sid Vicious buys Nick Kent a beer.
8.36pm: My good lady wife has picked up my hint earlier about Paul Weller's guitar. Christmas is coming up etc
8.38pm: Mumfords are back on. No pressure double bass guy.
8.43pm: The bands are done and the music is over. Over, I say, save for the sound of a few violins. And those violins, readers, are the soundtrack to me opening my squashed Pret Ham & Mustard sarnie and gazing forlonly at the music industry bigwigs stuffing their faces on top class nosh below.
8.57pm: I remember having a similar existential crisis two years ago when I realised I was effectively live blogging a couple of hundred suits eating a three course meal. I kept myself sane then by creating a drama and going on a mission to find out the menu but I'm not sure you'll fall for that trick again. Come on, if I tell you they're eating grilled sea bass with rosemary and lemon, will you really give a flying one?
Let's face it, unless we catch the bassist in Foals munching on a live bat, nothing of any interest is going to happen until 10pm so let's just watch the England match and I'll keep an eye on your comments.
9.07pm: Ok, ok, since (none of) you asked, here's the menu ...
Leek and roquefort tart with poached pear and walnut dressing
Pan fried sustainable cod with bubble and squeak, roast vegetables and a thyme jus
Apple tart tatin with vanilla icecream
Yes, very nice. That ham sandwich tastes all the sweeter now. By the way, we have Guardian journalist Lexy Topping to thank for this detective work. She hacked Simon Frith's voicemail or something to get that.
9.13pm: PhilJones87 says "They should have stuck Wiley on uStream to provide the entertainment during the breaks." If they did that, it would be the end of this blog.
9.26pm: Honestly, you spend two hours blogging about every single live performance to the sound of tumbleweed. Then I mention a leek and roquefort tart and the world comes alive.
"Vanilla ice cream?" asks dothebathosphere. "Thats like the vanilla of ice cream. No wonder the Merc Prize is so mainstream and we're all sat around on tenter hooks waiting for jasonaparkes to post the annual 6,000 item list of albums The Wire mumbled about last year ..."
9.30pm: Sadly, muslimlancs, we are shut off from the 'slebs on the balcony bit and so cannot infiltrate to bring you gossip. I have no idea if Laura Marling has thrown a leek and roquefort tart over Marcus Mumford. If the double bass player in Mumford has been flogged to death outside, I would be none the wiser. All I know is I'm sat in a boring room that smells of cod.
9.40pm: The depressing truth of tonight is that I really don't think there's any gossip I'm missing. It's all very civilised down there. The most exciting thing Rosie Swash has heard is that one of Foals was "more relaxed now we've done our performance." Christ, where's a Glasvegas singer going AWOL when you need one?
Admittedly, I could just take muslimlancs' advice and make it all up. But that would be showing up my profession and I just ... OMFG, IS THAT JOOLS HOLLAND WRESTLING NAKED WITH VILLAGERS BY THE PRESS AREA?
9.51pm: It's dothebathosphere again, with a question: "any altercations with photographers up there in balconyland this year?"
They are, of course, referring to the legendary 2009 live blog in which Paul MacInnes, normally the most docile of timid creatures, got into a word scrap with nearby snappers blocking his view. If I recall he slagged them all off on his live blog but one of them happened to be following it on his phone. Anyway, the exciting news is that after last year photographers are no longer invited to the balcony bit. MacInnes 1 - Photographers 0
9.59pm: The lights have gone down. And back up. And down again. You can smell the tension. Well, you could if the place didn't stink of pan-fried sustainable cod.
10.16pm: I'm guessing, judging by past Mercury blogs, that we're about ten minutes away from the moment Jools arrives with his envelope. I hope he hurries the hell up, I'm struggling to keep this live blog above water. If I tell you that a large proportion of the audience are wearing suits and shirts but no tie, will that be a new nadir in the art of minute by minute reportage? Ok, thought so ...
10.21pm: tyyorkshiretealady has had enough: "Oh FFS. *in Holy Grail-style fashion* GET ON WITH IT!!!"
They are! Jools has just told everyone to take their seats. Exciting. Kind of.
10.21pm: Here we go
10.22pm: And the winner is … Barclay Card! A stunning album that really makes sense in these credit crunch times! *Roars from the crowd*
10.22pm: Oh I'm so funny
10.22pm: Quick recap of nominees
10.22pm: And the real winner is … drum roll please … the xx!
10.25pm: Hardly a shock then! The xx win it, like everyone said. But! We should celebrate. A great, great album, well deserved. One of the few on the list that actually sounds like it was made in 2010 (well, 2009 but you know what I mean).
Oliver says: "We've had the most incredible year. Every day we've woken up to something incredible we weren't expecting."
They sound humbled and thrilled.
10.26pm: As befits a rather calm night, the band receive a polite standing ovation. It dies down. They walk off looking chuffed. Then the chatter starts back up. It's not quite the shock, screams and tears that happened when "Elbow" and "Speech Debelle" were read out. But there's probably relief at Mercury Prize HQ that nobody (well, not many people) will be saying the judges ballsed it up this year.
10.30pm: If you've just joined us, The xx have just won the Mercury Prize 2010 for their debut album xx. It was our Album of the Year back in December 2009, of course. We loved the record because it recreated the melancholic feeling of London (or any big city) at 3am, and seemed to forge a completely unique sound - a minimalist indie outfit who took inspiration from R&B (Aaliyah) and dubstep (Burial). We particularly loved the "sumptuous vocal interplay between Romy Madley Croft and Oliver Sim". Let's hope this victory doesn't propel them towards too many coffee tables and, instead, gives them the confidence to produce an equally creative follow up.
It was the bookies favourite and a lot of people were expecting it, but it's probably the right result. Thanks so much for reading and for all your comments. I'm off to try and interview the notoriously press-shy trio. Goodnight!
guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More FeedsПереслать - 50 great moments in jazz: Charles Mingus's The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady
It's almost impossible to choose just one great moment from the legacy of this pioneering bassist and compositional genius
"My music is evidence of my soul's will to live," Charles Mingus once said, and the evidence of that life-force amounts to some of the most dramatic and powerful jazz composed in the 20th century. A volcanically active genius, the bass player packed an incendiary mix of soulful music, impassioned politics, cross-genre vision and creative but occasionally self-destructive impetuosity into a three-decade career.
The musicologist and conductor Gunther Schuller (recently interviewed by the Guardian), Mingus's long-time advocate and close friend, regarded him as the true heir to Duke Ellington for the scope and imagination with which he sought to transform jazz. Mingus's many great moments could take up the rest of this series, but one of the greatest of all is the structurally adventurous and hauntingly eloquent 1963 work The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady.
This is Track C, entitled Group Dancers, with its piano intro by Jaki Byard, and a rich orchestral sound delivered by only an 11-piece band including saxophonists Booker Ervin (tenor) Charlie Mariano (alto) and Quentin Jackson (trombone).
Mingus was born in Arizona on April 22, 1922 and raised in Los Angeles. He was taught double-bass by Red Callendar, and by the New York Philharmonic Orchestra's Herman Rheinshagen (classical music played as big a part in his compositional thinking as gospel songs and the blues). Mingus toured with New Orleans players Louis Armstrong and Kid Ory in the 40s, and later worked briefly with Lionel Hampton and Duke Ellington. As an intuitive counter-melodic improviser, he became a key member of the 1950-51 chamber-jazz trio featuring vibraphonist Red Norvo and guitarist Tal Farlow, and he also memorably accompanied bebop heroes Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Max Roach and Bud Powell on the famous Massey Hall Concert of 1953.
If he had been an improvising instrumentalist alone, Mingus would have been a jazz legend simply for his bass playing. But Mingus the ensemble player and Mingus the composer were one and the same. His playing style joined the traditional harmony-marking and time-keeping role of the bass to the bebop agility of the 40s, and his dexterity, harmonic sophistication and sheer power transformed every group he joined. Bass-playing also gave Mingus an insight into the low sonorities and inner hamonies of jazz composition, and his melodic approach was profoundly influenced by the blues and gospel music of his childhood.
In 1955 he formed a co-operative composers' workshop including saxophonists Jackie McLean, Eric Dolphy and Rahsaan Roland Kirk, developing a spontaneous composing approach in which he would transmit ideas from the piano rather than in notation, or shout them out while playing the bass. Unlike some of the more cerebral beboppers of the 1950s, Mingus did not camouflage the blues, gospel and popular-song melodies he loved, but constantly pummelled and stretched them with tempo changes and free-collective improvisations, or pared them down into modal or scale-based structures. He could make his orchestras shout, bustle and swing like Count Basie, but he also gave them Duke Ellington's sumptuous tone colours and ambiguous textures. He saw the jazz ensemble as a vehicle for both collective empathy and individual expressiveness, and he fearlessly allowed his players to float freely in and out of range of the written parts. The raucously spontaneous feel of a Mingus orchestra was quite different to the machine-like orderliness of much big-band jazz, and this bold approach was to have a huge influence on subsequent jazz composition; notably in the work of Carla Bley.
Mingus tirelessly fought the white-run entertainment business of his day, but his attempts to survive outside it were fraught with financial problems. These difficulties, and erratic mental health, stalled his career in the late 60s, but a Guggenheim fellowship and the success of his no-prisoners autobiography, Beneath the Underdog, brought him back. He worked on movie scores, recordings and a late-career album with Joni Mitchell. After Mingus's death in 1979, a huge symphonic piece, entitled Epitaph, was found among his papers. He started writing it in his teens, embracing Jelly Roll Morton's early jazz, standard songs and techniques adapted from Schoenberg, Bartók and Stravinsky.
On wider matters, I'm grateful for the helpful contributions of commentators on this blog, and particularly welcome Bix2bop's recent comment on the contribution of bands like Don Ellis's and John Handy's to the often underrated 60s jazz scene, and nilpferd's on the importance of balancing an appreciation of Stan Getz's more muscular playing against the understatements of samba jazz. Apologies too for not dealing with earlier Latin jazz influences – such as Chano Pozo's with Dizzy Gillespie – earlier in the series. Space considerations force all kinds of unfair exclusions to a list like this, but please keep the comments coming.guardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2010 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More FeedsПереслать
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