“Let us keep in mind a few things in appreciating jazz”
THESE past few days, I went into my old notes in anticipation of the International Jazz Day on Wednesday. I had to search for my own understanding of our own kind of jazz.
The Philippines is a musical country of many genres, with the profitable Original Pilipino Music dominating the market today. These musical styles and forms — anchored on Western traditions interlaced with tribal rhythm and countryside themes — are being staged differently in places of public consumption. It is hardly surprising that OPM artists tend to be given more exposure than any other musical form.
One sound, however, remains an existing niche hidden within the cavalcade of OPM’s popularity. Our own jazz music was once a dominant genre that gained its distinct flavor in the post-war and the Martial Law years. Musicians such as Ryan Cayabyab and Boy Katindig were the popular names that dominated its scene.
But before we get to sit beside the turntable and listen to some good old-fashioned sounds of brass, let us keep in mind a few things in appreciating jazz.
Jazz music originated in African-American influences. It anchors chiefly on improvisation, citing its roots in the blues. It consists of a musical pattern — usually an ABA sequence — which allows a simple melody to be played before and after the B section, an uneven rhythm through varying time signatures, and the use of techniques in amplifying impromptu solos and creative vocalese.
The art of jazz music itself is intended for its own kick-and-punch sense. It sounds so simple, yet complicated and noisy when heard live — an untrained ear would deem an improvisation act a sort of weirdness in the music being made. At a glance, one would only rely on the renditions already set by mainstream singers who have introduced it to the mass audience. In the spirit of jazz, this piece tends to dwell more in its spontaneity.
In “Spain,” Chick Corea’s original recording contained solos for keyboard and flute. On the other hand, Al Jarreau’s vocal rendition contained only two portions, one for the synthesizers and the other for the voice, both in equal lengths. The rhythm and structure is nowhere near as simple as the lyrical format as its broken measures made it confusing to navigate. That is, if your ears are untrained for this experience.
This song curated further the careers of Filipino singers Gary Valenciano and Ray An Fuentes beyond the pop scene through their skill in putting out their scat.
However, as the big band’s popularity began to fade in the sixties, smooth jazz became trendy among its listeners. It responded to the needs by fusing it with pop elements that broke the traditional, purist conception of its inaccessibility towards the common man. However, contrary to its grand, brash sound, it posed none of its characteristics as it converted itself in its own linearity.
Think of “I Will Always Stay This Way in Love,” a Boy Katindig composition stylized as OPM, as a justification for this case. The song has a jazz-like approach due to its influences of a radio-friendly sound with an emphasis on the keyboard solos.
Do we now tend to misappropriate jazz as similar to the songs performed by Sitti and her predominantly-bossa nova body of work? Sure, her “Cafe Bossa” remains the go-to source for Filipinos on their first exposure to the genre despite its samba-like sound. However, there is more to our jazz influence that goes beyond the mainstream popularity which could fit better to how this is ought to be defined.
Jazz today in the Philippines doesn’t get enough support or recognition. Its niche identity, as well as mistaken perceptions in the mainstream, reflect its state that can be perceived as obscure, a far cry from its peak. Now, it continues to thrive in its own base among the musical elite – those who can understand its language and nuances beyond the disorganized harmony.
(The author tries to cure his haywire from his personal grind as he writes essays away from the news. For comments, you may reach him at ngrolando2003@yahoo.com.)
