I’ve been
watching a TV series called Fargo
without realising – until episode four, last Monday – that the plot is different
from the Fargo series I watched last year; and that the plot of that series is
different from the one on which both series are based – the Coen brothers’ film,
released in 1996. I should add that I've been watching alone and it wasn’t
until I expressed my perplexity to someone else that I was advised to “look it
up” on the internet. There I discovered that all the Fargos are indeed different, although they share a common theme - and
the Coen brothers’ involvement. But since each and every episode begins with
the declaration “This is a true story” I feel justified in claiming to have
been misled – my trusting, gullible nature notwithstanding.
It goes to
show that knowledge of context is useful when it comes to understanding what’s
going on in cultural entertainment and that group participation has an
advantage over solitary enjoyment; and explains, in part, why I am an
enthusiastic member of the Heaton Moor Jazz Appreciation Society, a group which
takes its subject matter seriously while managing to take itself less so.
(Perhaps we all recognise the ridiculous irony in a dozen or so white,
middle-class men in their 60s and 70s congregating in the comfortable living
rooms of a leafy suburb of a northern English city to celebrate the music of poor,
black, people from the desperate, dissolute centre of a southern American city).
Our meetings
have a set format: members volunteer, by loose rota, to host a themed presentation
of their choosing. They talk on their subject and play recordings to illustrate
it. Strong drink is taken and there is an interval for a buffet (pork pies are
always the centrepiece). Mastery of modern technology – MP3 files, Youtube
clips etc. – can be patchy, but no one complains: our generation is short of
experts. In this week’s session our host, well-known for his “roots” preference
and having declared that modern jazz had dominated the sessions too much of
late, chose to illuminate an era with which I am unfamiliar – New Orleans at
the close of the 19th century. Now I’m no fan of this period but it
is clear from the earliest recorded examples that powerful, formative music was
made there and then. Louis Armstrong, for example, who may be remembered mainly
for his showmanship, distinctive voice and the popular hits of his later years,
made a spectacular and distinctive early contribution.
Since those
days jazz has evolved, developed, migrated, mutated and insinuated itself into
our consciousness in ways we may not even be aware of. Without the collective
knowledge and experience of HMJAS I would be hard-pressed to find a way through
all the myriad paths of jazz: which is why when someone says to me I don’t like
jazz, what I actually hear is “I haven’t listened to much of it”. There is no
doubting that the very word “jazz” is not up to the task of defining all the
various strands and if it puts you in mind of New Orleans circa 1905, marching
bands, striped waistcoats and bowler hats, remember that’s only the beginning
of the story.
This year
I’m organising the society’s Christmas lunch. It will be an all-male affair – again.
I’m not sure why we don’t have any women members - I have at least one female
friend who is an aficionado - but the combination of pork pies and older
gentlemen might be a deterring factor. Hopes rose when a member's wife once
attended a meeting, but it transpired that her book club had been cancelled
just minutes beforehand. Perhaps we should set up an outreach programme.
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