Matthieu Bridi

I thought it fascinating that Taylor revisits jazz history, as it was mostly written by men, to include
neglected female players from the 1920’s and use their narrative as a way to criticize identity politics in
the male-dominated world of jazz, still very relevant today. Armstrong’s My Heart showcases Hardin’s
skills as a performer, drawing from the greats, notably Jelly Roll Morton’s. This level of musicianship is
only possible through the same dedication as any of her male counterparts. There is this idea that the
expression of identity, be it gender, race or whatever, is something that is desirable and is to be
celebrated through one’s art. Langston Hughes makes this same point about Negro culture and how a
whole generation of African American—including the likes of Dave Peyton from the subsequent article—
would shy away from it in order to conform to white standards.

I also liked the way the author defines swing through the lens of the jazz legends, my favorite quote
being Whiteman’s “It [swing] is a verb not a noun”. Swing is what it’s like to play the drums like Krupa on
Rockin’ Chair or to play the clarinet like Goodman on King Porter Stomp. I would have liked the author to
elaborate on the benefits of having both “standard playing” and “hot playing” in a musician’s arsenal,
benefits other than the pride that Goodman and Shaw feel from being in that position, as I am myself
juggling between both worlds as a classically trained jazz pianist and I can’t help but wonder if it isn’t
inherently a form of validation seeking rooted in a tradition of jazz being the “lower” musical practice.