WHAT IS SWING?
From Bill Treadwell's "Big Book of Swing" published in 1946.

This is indeed the $64,000 question of popular music.
The proof, to coin a phrase, is in the pudding.

Finding a hen's tooth ... or taking a message to Garcia ... or rolling a peanut up Pike's Peak with your nose - these are all child's play compared to getting a definition of the most debated word in jazz that will make everybody happy. To date, most definitions of Swing have received wholehearted approval from their authors only.

As Cootie Williams, the hot jazz stylist, has said: "Define it? I'd rather tackle Einstein's theory!"

We can begin our inquiry by taking the historical, sometimes known as the least hysterical, approach. There is reason to believe, although there are plenty who won't, that the term was first used many long years ago by Louis Armstrong, the old master of the trumpet. When leading his boys, he would frequently call upon them to accentuate the positive on certain numbers. He would then exclaim, "Swing out!"

It could be. It could be not.

But, be it as it may, the fireworks really got to popping back in 1935. Critics and writers almost reached the hair-tearing point in an attempt to settle on a meaning for Swing. It seems that two gentlemen, Riley and Farley by name, had a band playing at the Onyx Club in New York; and one fine day they upped and composed that daffy hit tune, "The Music Goes Round and Round." Everyone remembers how the music was going round and round that year.

Jack Egan, the puckish manager and publicist for the band, added his fuel to the fire:
"You can blame me for all the confusion on the definition of Swing," says Egan. "When we pushed the tune up to where it was a sensation and the whole country was singing it New Year's Eve, December 31st, 1935, the papers began yelling for stories. In one day, I gave out big feature stories over the phone to every New York daily and a few syndicates and news services. Each one would ask who Riley and Farley were. I'd answer they had a small Swing band at the Onyx Club. Then they'd want to know what a Swing band was. I'd say it was band that played Swing. Then they'd ask me, 'What's Swing?' and I'd try to answer. I had no prepared material, so each time I'd give as a definition the first thing that popped into my head, make it very involved, and lo and behold, every paper had a different explanation of what Swing was. That started a big controversy, a controversy that did more to publicize Swing music than the guys who played it."

However, "the guys who play it" have their own ideas about the meaning of THE WORD.

For instance, there's his royal eminence Benny Goodman, the "King of Swing", who sees it as a "free speech in music." "The most important element in Swing," declares Benny, "is improvisation-the liberty a soloist has to stand and play a chorus in the way he feels it, instead of the way in which it was written, a liberty never given any musician in classical performances. That is why I say Swing is genuinely American. It's the expression of an individual -a kind of free speech in music. It's the democratic privilege of rising from a storekeeper to President."

While not disagreeing in the least, of course, Tommy Dorsey, that Sentimental Gentleman, sees it this way.. "Jazz was modern music in its infancy and Swing is the infant grown up with all the vigor of eight to the bar come of age. Zestful, reflecting life's present-day tempo, Swing is sweet and hot at the same time and broad enough in its creative conception to meet, every challenge tomorrow may present."

Harry James, the jitterbug idol who is some- times known as Betty Grable's husband and who is reported to have a secret craving for classical music, offers a straight matter-of- fact explanation without any fancy trimmings: "Swing is improvised music, arranged and played in the various styles of big time bands."

Johnny Desmond, former vocalist with the late and beloved Major Glenn Miller's Army Air Force Band, contributes this thought to the general merry mixup: "Swing is a combination of simple melodic lines written against a rhythmical background and played in many variations of a single theme."

All right, now? Take a deep breath and here we go again.

Ella Fitzgerald, a gal who sings a mean Swing, waves aside the details and boils it all down to this simple statement: "Jazz or Swing -it's all the same as long as it has that beat."

We encounter the rare phenomenon of agreement between Barry Wood, radio singing star, and W. C. Handy, famed author of the "St. Louis Blues." They're pretty much of the same mind. Says Barry: "Swing is the sophisticated evolution of ragtime, jazz and blues. All four are essentially in the same family." Says Handy. "Swing is the latest term for ragtime, jazz and blues. You white folks just have a new word for our old-fashioned hot music."

But if these definitions do not leave us sufficiently confused, we can take a gander at some selections from the school of thought that sees Swing and jazz as synonymous terms.

Maurice Rocco, boogie-woogie pianist who gives out standing up, holds that "Jazz-and that's what we're talking about when you mention Swing-is just a matter of personal opinion. It depends on the guy in the audience and how he responds. Now Duke Ellington- his music is so distinctive that everyone accepts it as jazz, which it always is. Jazz is music with feeling - and if the listener has that same feeling he calls it jazz."

Orchestra leader George Auld feels that "Swing is good American jazz being continuously redressed in name."

And adds Cootie Williams: "Any kind of music, even the modern classics, can be tagged as jazz. All it needs is deep feeling and a rhythmic free-flowing series of musical tones. The performing artist makes the difference. He can play any piece, arranged or improvised, and if he puts his heart and soul in it, that's jazz or Swing, call it what you will."

We could go on. And on. But we would travel only further along the Road To No- where. What is Swing? Perhaps the best answer, after all, was supplied by the hepcat who rolled her eyes, stared into the far-off and sighed, "You can feel it, but you just can't explain it. Do you dig me?"

 

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