Unpardonable Turkeys: the 2013 Jazz (Jazzers Jazzing) Listeners & Readers Poll

The 1st Annual Jazz (Jazzers Jazzing) Listeners & Readers Poll will commence in 7 paragraphs. You can SKIP THIS MESSAGE in 30 seconds, 29 seconds, 28 seconds ...

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I recently sent a note to my friend, Jeff Fitzgerald, a writer in Virginia who lives far enough from Washington, D.C., that he can find a free-range, guiltless turkey for today's feast, thanking him for the latest piece he published. I'm in the habit of doing this every so often when I read something that strikes me as exceptionally good. Jeff has published so many things that are so good that I thought it was time to say so. Shortly after hearing back from him, I realized that the writers I'd written to in recent months all had something in common, in addition to their choosing to spend time in solitary confinement while pursuing just the right word to turn a phrase: they all write humor, or employ humor so well they are known for it.


Jeff and another recipient of one of my recent notes, pianist Bill Anschell, write about jazz, or as Jeff calls it, "Our Music." Like most writers, Jeff writes about other things, too, movies and food among them. Bill spends the bulk of his time composing music and arranging it, and plays beautifully. But not coincidentally, I know each of them best as humorists who regularly publish articles with the same fine publication I do, All About Jazz--Bill with his "Mr. P.C.'s Guide to Jazz Etiquette," and Jeff with the "Genius Guide to Jazz." Not coincidentally, I say, because it is not a coincidence at all that the three of us, scribes who like to express our outrages and opinions through various forms of sardonic humor (often combined with a kind of sacrilegious disregard for proper jazz dogma), all found our way onto the pages of Mike Ricci's website. It is not wasted on any of us that his comprehensive coverage at All About Jazz has the greatest reach of any online jazz publication in the world. Humorists like to have an audience to laugh along with them. 

Jon Hendrickson, a friend I've known since we co-wrote a satire column for our high school newspaper several decades ago (simultaneously incurring the wrath of the school administration and the closeted adoration of the faculty), lives in northern California and writes about wine. His adventures while pursuing wine, women, song and more wine in the vineyards and pubs of the wild, untamed foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains pique my appetite so well that I want a glass of his discovery by the end of one of his articles. He also listens to jazz, more acutely than most.

Then there's Lorraine Feather. Lorraine is, in my not particularly humble opinion, the finest lyricist working in jazz. She sometimes gets embarrassed when I threaten to publicly compare her to contemporary writers like Dave Frishberg, Bob Dorough or Mose Allison, or the Broadway giant, Stephen Sondheim, all of whom have made contributions to Our Music that could (and should) fill a very large book. But right now, November 28, 2013, she is in her prime and on the hottest of hot streaks, as evidenced by this year's Attachments, or 2012's Tales of the Unusual (both released on Jazzed Media.) The humor in her lyrics, as is always the case, requires that the listener listen to what she is saying. And if you care to dive below the surface and read along with the printed lyrics while listening to one of her recordings, you will discover galleons filled with treasure at the bottom of her seven seas, including one of jazz's finest and most powerfully emotional voices. And one of the dazzling jewels in those blue depths is that she will very often make you laugh out loud.

I mention these writers because I don't get a chance to laugh out loud often enough these days. Details of why this is the case aren't necessary--you, dear reader, live on Planet Earth just like I do, but if you are from Mars, 10 minutes (more is not recommended) with the New York Times or the Wall Street Journal will tell you all you need to know.

Besides the daily fishwrap, I read a lot of jazz writing, jazz criticism as it is often called (for good reason). What has struck me this year is how onerous and lifelessly intellectualized these discussions have become. Whether in the form of short, snotty little dismissals of years' worth of an artist's hard work, or great, ponderous dirigibles full of sulfurous hot air, the writer seems to have taken himself so seriously and found so little joy in either the music or the task of writing about it, that biting into a dried-out, weeks-old fruitcake stuffed with rancid pecans and hard green things sounds preferable to sinking your teeth into this guy's treatise on the arcane ideas and oblique interpretations rattling around in his head--a guy who has the same number of ears that you have, but the seemingly relentless determination to prevent you from ever hearing the music.

So I thought to myself, "Self, we need a new kind of year-end jazz poll." One that rates, in addition to the music you listened to this year and liked (as with the Down Beat or JazzTimes poll), the music you heard and disliked. It also struck me that you should have the opportunity to rate not only the music you heard, but the reviews you read. A poll that allows you to be the reviewer. You know, and I know, that often a review is so completely off-base or wrongheaded that you'd like to tie the reviewer to a tree and blast a mix tape (on a nice, cheap Radio Shack cassette) of Barbra Streisand songs (including her rendition of John Lennon's "Mother" from her 1971 Barbra Joan Streisand) at him all day long, preferably on a 1980s model boom box with tiny speakers.

So here goes. Respond to any or all, as you wish (at the bottom of this Blogger post, or by email). The categories constitute the rating for any particular artist or recording that you care to mention, from the worst Unpardonable Turkey(s) to most Worthwhile Pursuit(s). If you feel inclined to rate any reviewers or reviews that you remember--or haven't already used as kindling in your fireplace--by all means throw them under the bus (or up top, if you liked one ... it could happen). And don't feel that you have to limit yourself to jazz. Our Music, as you know, incorporates all the other musical forms, so if you feel compelled to trash or deify a rocker or a hopper, feel free. Name names! Kick ass, or even heap praise! As Jesse Pinkman would say, "Whatever, yo."

Unpardonable Turkey(s)

Artist:

Recording:

Reviewer:

Review:

Pardonable Sin(s)

Artist:

Recording:

Reviewer:

Review:

Justifiable Caution(s)

Artist:

Recording:

Reviewer:

Review:

Admirable Restraint(s)

Artist:

Recording:

Reviewer:

Review:

Worthwhile Pursuit(s)

Artist:

Recording:

Reviewer:

Review:

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