Friday, Oct 21, 2005
Superintendent' Message
Dreams of late are wrought with strange problems of indeterminate origin. In last night' dream I attempted to play an oversized clarinet-like instrument in concert with a jazz band comprised of New Orleans musicians. Frustrated that I could make no sound, I stared downward, mortified, averting the disappointment I knew I would see in the musicians'eyes. Mercifully, I awoke. Jazz musicians do not dwell upon disappointment. Their art requires the quick transformation of such emotions into recipe ingredients for new sounds. Unfortunately, as I write, our ears are full of horrible sounds from New Orleans. We hope the cries for help will quickly be silenced by rescuers, and the many vocalizations of grief will be quieted by compassionate providers. We expect a great silence will soon fall upon the city.
The silence will be short-lived. Listen carefully and you will hear the music emerge. First, it will rise from the streets. Then, in the French Quarter it will become louder. You will hear it in the visitor centers and the small clubs. Later, you will hear the parades, the jazz funerals, and the unbridled celebrations. New Orleans jazz, and all it entails, cannot be harnessed, stifled, or otherwise contained. Certainly, it cannot be destroyed.
To understand the fortitude of New Orleans music, one needs a starting point. There are many, but a good choice is Congo Square, a venerated space just outside the northern edge of the Quarter, adjacent to Treme, the African-American community dating back to the days of slavery. Slaves transported to the plantations from disparate African communities, and speaking different languages and dialects, were permitted to congregate here on Sundays. As they traded and mingled, they also danced to improvised music. Their collaborations provided the foundation for a unique form of music descriptive of their humanity, survival, and hope. The music came to encompass some traditions of local Native Americans, embracing the rhythms of Latin America brought by slaves from Haiti and Cuba, incorporating the field hollers and spirituals of the slaves coming downriver, and eventually adopting the brass instruments of European settlers. By the end of the nineteenth century there was a wondrous sound emanating from New Orleans.
The great paradox of the uniquely American art form called jazz is that it continues to progress, even as it remains rooted here in New Orleans. Somewhere each day an old jazz song is played in a new way. Somewhere each day a new jazz song, reflective of contemporary mood, emerges. And yet, the origins of traditional jazz in New Orleans remain the immutable bedrock, the substrate of the primordial ooze from which the music emerged, and to which the new artists all must pay homage.
This ooze, this gumbo of cultures and traditions, that gifted the world with Louis Armstrong, is the brew from which the eminent Wynton Marsalis launched the recently opened Jazz at Lincoln Center, and the young Irvin Mayfield founded the New Orleans Jazz Orchestra.
As the engineers and social workers go about the heroic task of rebuilding the infrastructure and support system of this great city, there will also be a layer of restorationists quietly busy below the radar. Most of us know each other by first name. We all know the commonality of our affiliation. It is the traditions, the heritage of the people, places and music of New Orleans that bind our missions. Often we meet informally in small groups, and sometimes, formally in a larger network. These are the mayor?s staff, the educational and preservationist groups, the small business collectives, the neighborhood alliances, the restaurant and hospitality folks, the cultural centers, and those who volunteer their time to represent the commissions and non-profits.
Engineers will rebuild the levees and physical structures to standards that will sustain the next category five onslaught. Officials will retool a police force capable of suppressing violence. Educators will restructure a school system that will be better than the one before. Louisiana will begin restoring the wetlands.
As these efforts unfold, those of us below the radar will work quietly together to assure that neighborhoods retain their character, schools have instruments and music programs, traditions are maintained, historic resources are protected, history is not forgotten, and children take pride in their cultural heritage and the diverse heritage of their city.
The instrument in my dream was not of musical origin. In the way of dreams it symbolized a pen. I was not meant to disappoint the dream band, or to play with them. My task is to introduce them. And so I will. Listen up. The band is about to play.
John Quirk Superintendent New Orleans Jazz National Historical Park September 7, 2005 |
