The Anti-Enlightenment Nature of Jazz: Reconsidering ...percaritatem.com/.../uploads/2007/08/anti-enlightenme… · Web viewGiven that improvisation is often cited as the “lifeblood”

Cynthia R. Nielsen Baylor ConferenceSummer 2006 ”The World and Christian Imagination”

The Anti-Enlightenment Nature of Jazz: Embracing Particularity and Universality, Freedom and Form, Tension and Resolution

In his book, The Dialectic of Enlightenment, co-authored with Max Horkheimer, Theodor

Adorno, presents a rather negative picture of jazz and suggests that jazz harmonizes well with the

mass culture industry of sameness in which the individual is subsumed in the universal. Though

as a whole, I found the book extremely helpful and stimulating—particularly the authors’

criticism of the totalizing tendencies of the Enlightenment, and the thesis that Enlightenment

rationality becomes purely functional—i.e., a functionalized reason with no content, I do,

however, strongly disagree with Adorno’s conclusions regarding jazz. In light of Adorno’s

pessimistic view of jazz, I shall attempt to paint a significantly different picture of jazz and hope

to show that jazz privileges neither particularity nor sameness but instead reflects unity and

diversity. Moreover, when one traces the genealogy of jazz, one finds that jazz not only has

deeply spiritual (i.e., Christian) roots, but also that it was birthed in a context of unjust suffering

experienced by African Americans—something that not only parallels the afflictions of the

Hebrews of the Old Testament, but ironically has much in common with that which Horkheimer

and Adorno experienced in the 1940’s.

Though this paper will have its own “improvisatory elements” along the way, its structure

will consist roughly of the following: I shall begin by discussing a brief genealogy of jazz

focusing specifically on black spirituals in order to show the influence of Christianity as to the

formation of jazz, as well as how the theoretical, structural, and existential aspects of traditional

jazz are permeated by and consequently reflect aspects of the Christian worldview. With this, I

am in no way suggesting that jazz is Christian music, but rather that certain elements that

“define” traditional jazz (i.e., as far as music can be “defined”) and that have shaped and

influenced its history, resonate well with the Christian metanarrative of creation, fall, redemption

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in Christ through the communion of the Holy Spirit, and the final consummation of all things in

Christ. Moreover, in continuity with Jeremy Begbie, I believe that “music [and jazz in

particular] can serve to enrich and advance theology, extending our wisdom about God, God’s

relation to us and to the world at large.”1 Given that improvisation is often cited as the

“lifeblood” of jazz, I shall discuss this concept at length. In the end, contra Adorno, it is my

contention that improvisation as employed specifically in “traditional” jazz,2 as well as the spirit

of creative and hopeful perseverance in the midst of oppression and suffering—a spirit that jazz

inherited by way of black spirituals—provides jazz with the ability to resist a reduction to

sameness. In other words, just as is the case with vibrant Christianity, jazz that is true to its roots

maintains the ever-so delicate balance of upholding particularity and universality, freedom and

form, tension and resolution.

A Brief Genealogy of Jazz

Before discussing jazz as an established genre, we should attempt to trace some of the

various tributaries that eventually form this river that we call “jazz,” and how the Christian faith

of African Americans cannot be extricated from the coming-into-being of this music.

Interestingly, while the Africans of North America were being torn from their families and

homeland, and stripped of their culture, their white oppressors were unable to silence their music

—music that in many ways allowed the cultural richness of the African people to live on. As

James Cone explains, though the origins of African slavery in North America is difficult to

pinpoint, it was in Jamestown in 1619 that the first Africans were sold into slavery. By 1700, the

1 Begbie, Theology, Music, and Time, p. 3. 2 That is, jazz as it evolved from its New Orleans origins until the 1960’s when “free jazz” began to gain significant ground. In contrast with traditional jazz, free jazz has purposely departed from the structured forms and “calculative” elements of jazz improvisation that I shall discuss later in the paper. There are of course jazz musicians today that carry on the legacy of traditional jazz yet in a contemporary expression and continue to manifest the delicate balance of freedom and form.

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majority of Africans in North America were made slaves for life.3 Describing this horrifying and

inhumane experience, Cone writes,

Slavery meant being snatched from your homeland and sailing to an unknown land in a stinking ship. Slavery meant being regarded as property, like horses, cows, and household goods. For blacks the auction block was one potent symbol of their subhuman status. The block stood for “brokenness,” because on sale days no family ties were recognized. […] Slavery meant working fifteen to twenty hours a day and being beaten for showing fatigue. It meant being driven into the field three weeks after delivering a baby. It meant having the cost of replacing you calculated against the value of your labor during a peak season, so that your owner could decide whether to work you to death. It meant being whipped for crying over a fellow slave who had been killed while trying to escape.4

Numerous other monstrosities could be cited, including slave catechisms created by whites

claiming the name of Christ in order to produce more docile slaves and to attempt to convince

slaves that they were in fact created to be slaves. The passage above, however, suffices to help

us to begin to see the unjust and compassionless treatment of African people. In spite of such

oppression, the African spirit resisted a reduction to white sameness. As Cone explains,

When white people enslaved Africans, their intention was to dehistoricize black existence, to foreclose the possibility of a future defined by the African heritage. White people demeaned black people’s sacred tales, ridiculing their myths and defiling the sacred rites. Their intention was to define humanity according to European definitions so that their brutality against Africans could be characterized as civilizing the savages. But white Europeans did not succeed; and black history is the record of their failure.5

This resistance took many forms from physical violence to seeking a new life in free territories to

purposely disrupting work routines. Another area in which resistance manifested was in what we

might call the specifically “religious” sphere. “Slave religion” (Cone’s term), which continually

asserted the dignity of blacks because they too are created in God’s image, not only affirmed

freedom from bondage but also freedom in bondage.6 That is, though it is the case that Christian

slaves did seek a final end to their sufferings in the world beyond, they also believed in and sang

3 Cone, The Spirituals and the Blues, p. 20. 4 Ibid., pp. 20-21. 5 Ibid., pp. 23-24. 6 Ibid., p. 28.

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spirituals about a God who was actively involved in history now—in their history—“making

right what whites had made wrong. Just as God delivered the Children of Israel from Egyptian

slavery, drowning Pharaoh and his army in the Red Sea, he will also deliver black people from

American slavery.”7 As Cone observes, the spirituals are often inspired by biblical passages that

emphasized God’s care for and active involvement in liberating oppressed people. In these

spirituals we encounter a deep trust in God’s promise to deliver his people. Yet, the spirituals

also allowed the slaves to cry out in their suffering, “How long, O Lord?” Here we not only

have an eschatological hope on the basis of who God is and what he has done and is doing in

history past and present, but we likewise have an acknowledgment of the eschatological tension

that we experience in the present life where injustice often prevails. When the day finally came

and God liberated the slaves from their bonds, these African American believers experienced

what Cone calls an “eschatological freedom […] affirming that even now God’s future is

inconsistent with the realities of slavery.” Thus, for black slaves, freedom “was a historical

reality that had transcendent implications.”8 Given what we have said up to this point, we might

summarize one of the central theological themes of black spirituals as the belief that God had not

forsaken his people coupled with the conviction that he would one day deliver them from their

unjust human oppressors.

Though often downplayed, one should not overlook the influence of black spirituals and

hence Christianity on the development of jazz. On the most basic level, one is certainly correct

to understand jazz as a fusing of European harmonic structures and practices with African

distinctives such as syncopation, swing, and polyrhythms. Blues as well played a significant role

in shaping jazz. In fact, one might say that in the blues and black spirituals we find the soul that

7 Ibid., p. 32. 8 Ibid., p. 42.

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animates jazz. In both of these musical styles, we encounter improvisatory elements,

syncopated rhythms, call and response patterns, and the use of “blue notes,” i.e., flattened 3rd, 5th,

and 7th scale tones that musically imitate a wide spectrum of human emotions—from agonizing

pain to ecstatic joy. In other words, just as the spirituals served as a way not only to tell the black

story, but also the black story as understood within the history of redemption, so too jazz retains

part of this narrative nature and expresses the joys, sorrows and hope of the African American

experience and beyond. For example, though slavery had been officially banned in the late

1800’s, racism was of course still alive and well in the early 1900’s when jazz musicians like

Duke Ellington and Charlie Christian were breaking into the jazz scene. There are numerous

accounts of jazz musicians who, though excelling their white counterparts in musical talent, were

not permitted to participate in white groups. In spite of this unfair treatment, jazz musicians such

as Duke Ellington, himself a professing Christian, were able to transcend these injustices by

means of their music—music that I suggest has a strong existential grasp of the Christian

metanarrative of creation, fall, redemption in Christ, and final consummation in Christ where all

things will be set right.

Improvisation

Having discussed some of the facets of the historical origins of jazz and its organic

connection with Christian faith, we now turn to explore the notoriously elusive concept of

improvisation. After examining a brief history of improvisation and its use not only in jazz, but

also in church and classical music, we shall offer a working definition of improvisation as it

relates to our present purpose. Then through a number of musical analogies I endeavor to show

how improvisation as utilized in jazz resists the reduction of particularity to universality, while

simultaneously upholding unity by submitting to certain givens. My hope shall be to show that

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with jazz improvisation we have a wonderfully rich example of unity-and-diversity that does not

privilege one at the expense of the other—itself reflecting in a creaturely way the perfect unity-

and-diversity of the Triune God. Following Begbie’s line of thought, i.e., that music can assist

and enrich our theological (and I would add philosophical) endeavors, I consider via analogy a

possible way of understanding and approaching God’s revelation as akin to the way jazz

musicians interpret “lead sheets,” which in the jazz world are something like musical scores.

With a map of where we are going behind us, let us attempt to arrive at a working definition of

improvisation as it relates specifically to jazz.

Improvisation

Regarding the history of the term “improvisation,” and the unfortunately negative

attachments that have come to be associated with it, Begbie writes,

The word ‘improvisation’ did not gain wide currency in the vocabulary of music-making until the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. At first it carried the relatively neutral sense of extemporization, […] By the 1850’s it appears to have acquired pejorative connotations—off-hand, lacking sufficient preparation (as in ‘improvised shelter’, ‘improvised solution’). Many musicians and musicologists continue to view it with considerable suspicion, if not disdain. For some it is synonymous with the absence of rigour. There are educationalists who see it as a distraction from authentic music-making. The French composer Pierre Boulez remarks: ‘with improvisations, because they are purely affective phenomena, there is not the slightest scope for anyone else to join in. Improvisation is a personal psychodrama…Whether we are interested or not, we cannot graft our own affective, intellectual or personal structure on to a base of that sort’ (Boulez, Conversations with Célestin Deliège, p. 65).9

Contra this pessimistic and mistaken construal of improvisation, I argue that jazz improvisation

requires just as much skill, creative genius, and intellectual stamina as written compositions, and

that the latter in fact are not without improvisatory elements. To begin with, it is important not

to gloss over the pervasiveness of improvisation in music in general. Before going further, I

should pause, however, to acknowledge the well-known difficulty among music specialists in

9 Begbie, Theology, Music and Time, p. 180.

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arriving at a satisfactory definition of improvisation. Given this difficulty, we shall move

through a number of possibilities, noting various aspects of improvisation broadly construed with

the hope of finally obtaining a working definition of improvisation as related to our present

purposes.

If improvisation is understood as a simultaneous occurrence of composing and performance,

then improvisation cannot be limited to jazz. In fact, what we find is that improvisation

characterized in this manner has been prevalent in a wide variety of cultures and musical genres

—from Gregorian chant, to Baroque music, as well the majority of non-Western expressions of

music which are by and large not notated. As Begbie observes, the majority of academic

writings on music have been commentaries on written scores. Though this is understandable

given the difficulty of reconstructing music that was not written out prior to the invention of

recording devices, it has nonetheless produced an extremely one-sided view of the history of

musical practices.10 To cite one well-known example, many music scholars have brought to our

attention that even following the development of music notation, we find composers such as J.S.

Bach, Handel, and Mozart highly skilled in the art of improvisation and expecting those who

performed their pieces to possess this skill as well. Tracing some of the possible reasons why

improvisation’s high reputation and regard began to wane, Begbie points to the increasing

sophistication of notation, as concerts in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries gained in

notoriety. Even the improvised solo sections purposely crafted by composers to display the

talent of highly gifted soloists were with time significantly diminished by written solos.11

Although this increase in notation severely limited opportunities for improvising in classical12

10 Ibid., p. 181. 11 Ibid., pp. 182-83. 12 I am using the word “classical” here in the colloquial, generic sense. I am not referring to the specific style of music that falls historically between the Baroque and Romantic periods.

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music, the improvisatory elements even in meticulously notated music cannot be totally removed

so long as human beings are the performers. Avid music listeners can attest that whether

speaking of an individual soloist or an orchestral unit, the personalities, stylistic particularities,

and interpretative nuances manifest in the actual performance of a musical work all contribute a

degree of creative liberty that falls within the sphere of improvisation broadly construed. With

Begbie, I wholeheartedly agree that

All this suggests that the customary picture of improvisation as a discrete and relatively frivolous activity on the fringes of music-making might need to be replaced by one which accords it a more serious and central place. Instead of regarding thoroughly notated and planned music as the norm and improvisation as an unfortunate epiphenomenon or even aberration, it might be wiser to recall the pervasiveness of improvisation and ask whether it might be able to reveal fundamental aspects of musical creativity easily forgotten in traditions bound predominantly to extensive notation and rehearsal.13

A second consideration possibly fueling this negative view of improvisation as somehow

intellectually substandard is perhaps due to an overly rigid distinction that we in the Western

musical tradition tend to make between improvisation and composition. As we observed in the

first passage cited from Begbie, improvisation is often understood as non-calculated, free-

flowing and as lacking in intellectual rigor. Composition, in contrast, is thought to be more or

less inflexible, rule-governed and by nature, given its high degree of musical notation, purposely

without spontaneity. However, as we will see, both views are misleading and set up sharp

distinctions that do not correspond to what takes place in actual music making and performance.

Though we shall discuss this topic in greater detail in a subsequent section, I mention in passing

that contrary to the above characterization, improvisation as expressed in jazz involves a high

degree of prepared and calculated musical ideas. Likewise, there is significantly more flexibility

in the performances of various musical scores in the traditionally classical sphere than one may

think. 13 Ibid., p. 182.

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With these overlaps in mind, one might suggest that notation is the crucial difference

between composition and improvisation. However, as Begbie points out, “it seems odd to claim

that composition only happens when musicians write music down.”14 Here we might also

mention that it is not uncommon for jazz musicians use written arrangements for both large and

small ensembles. In light of this apparent “dead end,” Begbie offers the following as a possible

way to differentiate composition and improvisation,

A more promising way forward is to take composition to refer to all the activity which precedes the sounding of the entire piece of music, everything which is involved in conceiving and organizing the parts or elements which make up the pattern or design or the musical whole: and improvisation to mean the concurrent conception and performance of a piece of music, which is complete when the sound finishes.15

With the above conception, composition entails all the musical activity that takes places prior to

the performance of the piece as a whole, whereas improvisation consists in simultaneous

composing and performance. Christopher Small captures aspects of this idea and adds additional

dimensions in his analogy of Western classical music being similar to a journey taken by a

composer who then returns to tell us of his experience. No matter how fascinating the journey

was, “we cannot enter fully into the experience with him because the experience was over and he

was safely home before we came to hear of it.”16 In contrast, improvisation is more like our being

invited to accompany the composer and experience his journey with him.17 Though we would

not want to push this analogy too far given what we have alluded to as the prepared or calculated

elements involved in jazz improvisation, it does rightly emphasize the sense of experiencing the

14 Ibid., p. 183. 15 Ibid., p. 183. 16 Small, Music-Society-Education, p. 176, as cited in Begbie, Theology, Music and Time, p. 183. 17 In a footnote, Begbie makes the following astute comment on Small’s journey analogy, If this [Small’s analogy] is so, then a clear difference between composition and improvisation concerns the application of “problem-solving” techniques. In the compositional approach, in general, problem solving is complete before the performance. Success is judged, in large part at least, by how well the performance represents a perfect execution of ideas and interpretation. In improvisation, problem-solving is undertaken within the performance itself: “the emphasis is upon the creative, investigative approach to an unformulated musical situation” (Prévost, “Improvisation: Music for an Occasion,” p. 181, as cited in Begbie, p. 183).

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“present” in improvisation, i.e., rather than highlighting product or result, the accent is on

process and activity, as “conception and performance are interwoven to a very high degree.”18

Harmonizing all that we have said thus far, I offer the following as a working definition of

jazz improvisation: that present, spontaneous, and even mystical creative activity that purposely

and re-creatively utilizes prepared and hence thoroughly familiar musical ideas that give rise to a

delicately balanced experience of the dialectical interplay of freedom and form, particularity and

universality, oneness and alterity.

Now that we have a working definition of improvisation as specifically manifest in jazz, I

would like to discuss a number of somewhat technical musical examples in order to show how

improvisation as manifest in jazz not only resists the reduction of particularity to universality,

but also allows a dialectically balanced interplay between unity and diversity. First, we should

begin with a brief introduction to certain principles of music theory and the ways in which these

are applied in jazz improvisation. According to the “rules” of music theory, the 4th tone in a

major scale does not harmonize well with the tonic chord, nor is it the note that one wants to

emphasize when improvising a solo in the tonic key. To illustrate this in more concrete terms,

let us choose the key of C major (the tonic being C). In C major, we have the notes C, D, E, F,

G, A, B, which makes F the 4th tone (also called the subdominant). The tonic (or I) chord

consists of the notes C, E, G, which form a C major chord. The reason that F is typically not a

good choice to emphasize over a C major chord is because the most important note in the C

major chord is the E (the 3rd scale tone), and F, (the fourth scale tone) is only one-half step away

from E (a minor second) and thus produces what many—particularly Western trained ears—

consider to be an extremely dissonant sound. Though the rules of music theory are “correct” on

18 Begbie, Theology, Music and Time, p. 184.

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this point, both classical and jazz musicians frequently “bend” the rules producing a rather

pleasant effect. For example, in classical compositions, one can have the 4th tone replace the 3rd

tone and voiced in such a way that a “suspended” chord is created. As we mentioned previously,

in a major triad which consists of the 1, 3, and 5 of the scale or tonal center in which one is

working, the 3rd is arguably the most important note as it defines the quality of the chord as either

major or minor. When the 3rd note is replaced by the 4th scale tone, a state of suspension is

created, as we are not able to discern whether the chord is major or minor. A good composer

knows how to use the anticipation created by this suspended sound to produce a beautiful effect.

That is, the composer will allow the suspension to continue long enough for the listener to be

thoroughly expectant and yet taken by surprise with the resolution. Here we should emphasize

that a resolution (usually to the 3rd tone of the scale) was in mind from the beginning, and that the

tension created from the suspension serves to intensify the resolution. Jazz musicians are also

well aware of the positive effects of this tension-resolution interplay.

All too frequently, however, a certain kind of classical musician will pejoratively comment

that in jazz it does not really matter what note one plays given the dissonance prevalent in jazz

and its penchant for non-resolution. Though perhaps in some expressions of jazz such a remark

might ring true,19 I would suggest that on the whole it tends to paint a rather misleading picture.

Instead, I would argue that jazz improvisers are intensely aware of what notes they play, when to

play them, and for what reason this note or scale should be played over others. A few concrete

examples should help to better illustrate these claims. First, consider the common harmonic

structures in which one finds purposely altered harmonies, i.e., dissonances that are intentionally

applied to certain chord structures. One of the first things that one learns as a beginning

19 The same however could be said of some expressions of classical music.

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improviser is that most traditional jazz pieces consist of what is called the ii-V-I harmonic

progression (typically with each chord extending to at least the 7th tone). For example, in the key

of C major, the ii-V-I progression would be: D minor 7 – G7 – C major 7. Because the dominant

7 or V7 chord has multiple functions—e.g., it can serve as a transition chord into another key or

as a common way to resolve back to the tonic key—it is a top candidate for harmonic alterations.

Why? It is the chord that either leads us directly to a resolution back to the tonic key, or it

functions as a transition chord to take us to a new key that will then serve as a temporary

resolution of sorts.20 Given these functions, as opposed to being a “place of rest” (such as the

tonic chord) or even a “temporary rest stop,” altering or extending its “normal” harmonies

heightens the tension by adding new tonal colors into the mix. Jazz musicians are deeply aware

of this, and maximize this tension-release motif in their solos. In fact, it is a common practice

among jazz musicians to have numerous altered patterns prepared in advance—patterns which

they have practiced for hour upon end in all 12 keys so that when performance time comes, the

music has become such a part of them that it flows effortlessly. Thus, it is in no way the case

that jazz musicians simply fumble around, pulling notes out of thin air, rebelliously disregarding

the harmonic structure of the tune because they have some kind of perverse attraction to

dissonance for its own sake. While this might de-mystify jazz improvisation to a certain extent,

it does not eradicate that side of jazz that involves a kind of instantaneous creation of sorts. In

other words, mystery is still alive and well in the art of jazz improvisation because no matter how

many patterns one has prepared in advance, the dynamism and community of jazz makes it such

that in Heraclitean fashion, “no pattern is ever played the exact same way twice.”

20 Though I have stated this in an either/or way, to be sure there are other roles that a dominant 7th chord can play.

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Let me illustrate why this is the case. The process of memorizing a four-measure ii-V-I

pattern is quite mechanical and takes an amazing amount of discipline. One sits in a lonely

practice room, with a metronome, music stand and of course one’s instrument, and simply

repeats the pattern again and again in all twelve keys gradually increasing the metronome setting

until the pattern is completely internalized at various tempos. As Adorno was aware,21 it is not

uncommon for jazz musicians to spend multiple hours a day in practices rooms repeating such

patterns in order to be able to effortlessly recall them on the spot in any key and at any tempo.

However, what Adorno seems to have failed to take into consideration is that what one does in

the practice room is quite different from what one does in a live performance. First, when

performing in real time, one typically plays with other living, breathing musicians. The

importance of the communal aspect of jazz cannot be overemphasized. Attentive listening,

dynamic interaction, and intuition are essential for a successful jazz group. Though no doubt

some players may be “up front” more than others, at every moment each player is completely

dependent on the other. For example, while a saxophone player is soloing, the piano player must

listen closely to the melodic lines that he or she is playing. Should the soloist decide to

superimpose extended or altered harmonies, a seasoned pianist will catch this and respond

accordingly by altering the chords to fit the melodic lines currently executed by the soloist.22

Likewise, the attentive drummer will listen for rhythmic patterns accented by the soloist, and will

then incorporate those patterns into his or her playing, which in turn affects the bass player and

so on. Given the dynamic interplay that takes place among the musicians, one can imagine that

the prepared patterns of which we spoke earlier, could not possibly sound the same even when

used twice in the same solo. After all, the musician is playing in real time (not with a 21 For Adorno’s controversial, and in my opinion, misguided critique, see “Perennial Fashion—Jazz”, in Prisms, trans. Samuel and Shierry Weber, Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1982, pp. 121-32. 22 The same is true in reverse, i.e., a pianist can decide to alter the harmonies and the soloist must then respond accordingly

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mechanical metronome). In addition, depending upon what the other players do, he or she may

choose to stretch the time by playing melodic lines in a kind of rubato fashion, or perhaps opt to

play the line in double time, or even add or delete notes on the spot. With these examples and

illustrations we see that far from being unaware, ill-prepared, or having a bizarre preference for

non-resolution, jazz musicians are quite conscious of why and when they employ dissonance and

have even calculated beforehand exactly which kind of dissonance they will allow to manifest.

Yet, this does not result in sameness or lack of spontaneity as Adorno mistakenly concluded, but

rather creates a space for a delicately balanced co-existence of freedom and form, universality

and particularity.

Lastly, I offer the following analogy as a way to explore the possibilities that jazz might offer

as to how we as Christians read the “text” of creation, as well as the text of Scripture. The

analogy runs as follows. First, God’s revelation, both natural and supernatural, might be

understood to play a similar role to what jazz musicians call “lead sheets.” Second, our various

and multi-layered understandings of this revelation would then be similar to the different ways

that jazz works can be performed and interpreted. Before proceeding further, let me explain

what a jazz “lead sheet” is by way of comparison to a classical score. A jazz lead sheet is similar

to a notated score for a classical piece; however, only the melody is written out in standard

musical notation. In other words, in contrast to the classical score in which the bass line, the

chords, and more or less every note that will be played is written out in full notation, a lead sheet

allows for much more flexibility. For example, above the melody one simply finds chord

symbols, as opposed to chords displayed in standard notation with specific voicings. Writing the

chord symbols in this manner affords the pianist or guitarist, as well as the bassist, a significant

amount of creative freedom in performing the piece. However, we should be clear that this

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freedom does not swallow up the form or structure, as one must choose harmonies and bass lines

that fall within a certain trajectory of the specified chord symbol that will support the melody and

mark out the general harmonic structure of the piece. Thus, with a jazz lead sheet, one is in a

sense “tied to” the “score,” i.e., one must agree to submit to the “givens” that make the piece to

be what it is and respond accordingly.23 Yet, in other sense, one’s own personality, skill level,

and creative sensibilities also come through making each performance something unique. One

might even say that the flexibility that lead sheets afford, coupled with the distinctly human traits

and personal idiosyncrasies that manifest in improvisation, in a sense engenders greater

intelligibility and appeal to the piece itself. That is, the built-in flexibility of lead sheets aids in

preserving the piece through the passage of time while simultaneously allowing and even

expecting various re-articulations because it “has room for” the creative expansions that

inevitably come with temporal progression.

Keeping with Christianity’s desire to uphold the traditional doctrines of God’s

incomprehensibility and yet knowability in light of his condescending to reveal himself to us,

perhaps our understanding of the created order given the ultimate “Signified” to which both the

created order and Scripture point, indicates that our approach to understanding and interpreting

these signs should not be a quest to attain the closest “copy” of the original archetype as God

knows and understands it. After all, how could we as creatures know creation or Scripture as

God knows them? Instead of trodding down the path of univocity, a more fruitful way to

conceive our role as interpreters may be to think of ourselves more like jazz improvisers. That

is, as those who are called to creatively re-interpret God’s various “lead sheets,” which

23 The communal aspect of jazz performance is an important factor here as well. For example, if the pianist simply decides to play chords that have no relation whatsoever to the chord symbols, the rest of the group or ensemble will be affected (not to mention thoroughly frustrated) as their parts will not correlate at all with the random harmonic superimposition on the part of the pianist.

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themselves were never meant to produce a one-to-one, univocal meaning for us but rather a

multi-layered analogico-symbolic meaning that reflects the inexhaustible nature of the Author.

Anticipating possible objections, viz., does this not lead to relativism and render the text

more or less superfluous? On the contrary, just as in no way is it the case that when a jazz piece

is performed and interpreted by various musicians from different time periods, a kind of free-for-

all takes place in which the “original” melody is somehow destroyed, neither would it be the case

that our interpretations have no strictures whatsoever and no relation to God’s archetypal ideas.

Though it is the case, that each jazz performance is distinctive,24 there is a common, yet dynamic

range that “grounds” each performance such that the melody is recognizable when played in a

wide range of styles (from traditional to more “out” styles). If one simply ignored the melody

and harmonic structure or distorted either such that they become completely unrecognizable,

then clearly one has “gone astray.” Certainly, I am not suggesting that, but I am wondering

whether the analogy might help us to conceive anew a more dynamic and historically “friendly”

approach to interpreting and understanding creation, as well Scripture.

Regarding the latter, a reading of the New Testament’s use of the Old Testament indicates

that both Jesus and the Apostle Paul were quite comfortable citing Greek translations of the Old

Testament and in no way felt compelled to quote a pristine original. Here we might interject that

perhaps the drive to get back to a “pure” and “untainted” text is connected with deeply modernist

expectations and assumptions regarding history, the belief that diversity of text types are

somehow inherently bad, and that moving closer to the original will necessarily bring greater

clarity.25 Rather than discuss each of these in detail, for brevity’s sake, I simply point out that

24 One might argue that even with classical music where all the parts are strictly defined and written out, the same piece played by the same group or musician is strictly speaking never played the same way twice.25 On the contrary, what if moving closer to the original actually moves one more deeply into the realm of mystery and thus requires in a sense more “graced” faith (at least in this life)?

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with translations, of course, we do not have one-to-one exact replicas of the original; however,

this does not mean that God’s word fails to be communicated. After all, translations such as the

Septuagint(s) and others harmonize well with the mission of the Church to make disciples of all

nations. Just as Christ came and incarnated Himself to save His people, so too the written word

of God is incarnated via translations so as to be intelligible to numerous peoples of diverse

languages and cultures. Becoming incarnate of course involves complications, inconveniences,

ambiguities and various other distinctively human challenges, yet our Lord so valued humanity

that He willingly took on flesh and not simply for His time on earth, but for eternity. In light of

our Lord’s, as well as St. Paul’s contentment with what we might provocatively call “imperfect”

yet incarnational translations, perhaps such examples teach us something of God’s comfort with

the “messiness” of an historical revelation as well as pressing us to continually question and

submit our expectations and presuppositions as to the nature of Scripture to Scripture itself.

In other words, what I suggest is that in jazz improvisation instead of seeking to replicate a

piece in a univocal fashion, producing in a sense a “zerox” copy of the original within strict

(literal) confines of the (human) author’s intention, we should instead become like jazz

improvisers who creatively re-interpret the original melody such that it is clearly recognizable,

yet it speaks to the culture of the day. Moreover, allowing for multi-layered, symbolic, re-

creative interpretations that arise out of the Christian metanarrative of creation, fall, redemption

in Christ, and final consummation in Christ, is yet another expression of a harmonious unity-and-

diversity bringing forth a dynamically rich display of the infinitely diverse ways in which God

can be imitated, participated and hence worshipped.

Concluding Remarks

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In conclusion, my hope is that the cumulative effect of all that we have examined in this

essay—from the genealogy of jazz in which we traced its Christian roots to black spirituals to the

manifold facets of improvisation—will enable us to see jazz in a new, more positive light. More

specifically, contra Adorno’s negative appraisal, I have argued that traditional jazz possesses

inherent resources that resist a reduction to sameness, while simultaneously upholding unity and

thus manifesting a dynamic re-articulation of certain givens within a structured framework. In

its ability to balance the dialectical interplay of freedom and form, universality and particularity,

jazz provides a rich analogue of the unity and diversity of our Triune God. Additionally, the

principles and practices of jazz improvisation highlight the theological idea that all the parts are

related to a unified whole and ultimately find resolution, yet this resolution does not destroy

individuality. However, for Christian believers “on the way” this final resolution is at best an

“already-not-yet” experience. Put in slightly different terms, though we sense by virtue of the

cross and resurrection that the final victory has been won, and with St. Paul proclaim, “O Death

where is thy victory, O death where is thy sting”, yet, existentially we experience constant cycles

of tension and resolution, which in faith we take to be upward and forward moving cycles

progressing toward our final telos in God, in Christ, in Love.

Bibliography/Works Cited

Adorno, Theodor. “Perennial Fashion—Jazz”, in Prisms, trans. Samuel and Shierry Weber, Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1982, pp. 121-32.

Begbie, Jeremy. Theology, Music and Time. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2000.

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Boulez, Pierre. Conversations with Célestin Deliège, London: Eulenburg, 1976.

Cone, James H. The Spirituals and the Blues: An Interpretation. New York: The Seabury Press, 1972.

Prévost, Edwin. “Improvisation: Music for an Occasion,” British Journal of Music Education 2/2 (1985): 177-86

Small, Christopher. Music-Society-Education. London: John Calder, 1977.

Steed, Janna Tull. Duke Ellington: A Spiritual Biography, New York: Crossroad Publishing Co.,1999.

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