
This comprehensive biography/history of Fletcher Henderson examines his impact on big band jazz. It is well-written and generally interesting, but it manages to get in its own way in a number of respects. Author Magee is a musicologist, and it is a very musicological book, with many transcriptions and notated passages interrupting the narrative track of the book and making it schizophrenic. A least two books coexist here, one a fairly gripping tale of Henderson's almost accidental rise to fame and influence as a pianist-bandleader-arranger, the other batches of academic analyses and illustrations to dissect and explain his music. It might be divided into two volumes -- the Good Part and the Dull Part.
The conventional way of telling Henderson's story is to use the by-now infamous phrase of John Hammond, "a study in frustration," which explains him away as a disappointed, frustrated striver whose glory was stolen by Benny Goodman and other white musicians. Impresario Hammond himself was an ambivalent force in Henderson's career, both implementing and impeding his work, often at the same time.
Magee makes clear major points to remember about Henderson and his slot in the history of jazz: 1) he was regarded as a "black Whiteman" early in the 1920s, which is fair assessment; 2) his band was an indefatigable recording unit that established itself on disc long before it had a live public -- and the dispersal of these records (over a hundred sides cut very early) was very influential on other musicians and the whole idea of "big band jazz"; 3) Henderson partnered with other black recording-publishing pioneers like Harry Pace and W.C. Handy and was a sparkplug in the "classic blues" explosion of 1920-24; 4) the importation of Louis Armstrong in 1924 helped Henderson understand how to make his music actually jazz, and Armstrong's presence and example taught the band members how to swing like New Orleanians; 5) Don Redman was a catalytic force in "modernizing" Henderson's approach and creating modern arrangements that were subtle, supple and creative.
Magee says Henderson helped build the kingdom of swing, as his title implies, and the trajectory of influence that Henderson and his recordings created was visible in the successes of major Swing figures—not just Goodman, but Webb, Lunceford and others. The idioms and conventions of Henderson's scores shaped the way all arrangers worked, and the influence was cumulative after about 1925, when his band came of age after Armstrong. Henderson moved from adapting and imitating stock arrangements from Melrose and other publishers on to creating originals and then to using aids of genius like Redman to improve his own work, in the process shaping the way big bands built a book and the way sidemen learned to read and use the charts.
This was a big leap forward toward the Swing Era of the 1930s, and Henderson was a prime mover in the process. His early fast-moving and energetic pieces like "Stampede," "TNT" "Copenhagen" and others were imaginative and precisely executed. Henderson had gathered capable soloists like Coleman Hawkins, Rex Stewart, Charlie "Big" Green and others with distinctive voices that offset the homogenization of ensemble parts. Magee identifies a tension between "black folkways" and the "Whitemanesque" -- the imbedded blackness of an artist like Armstrong vs. the fussy carpentry and score-writing of Whiteman and his arrangers. Magee believes Armstrong's brief tenure with the band resolved this division: "Before Armstrong, the band attached a hot out-chorus to most arrangements like so much appliqué, an exciting effect that proved a dance orchestra's versatility. After Armstrong, we can hear Armstrong's rhythmic conception -- his "swing" -- pervade the entire band in a deeper way."
Other subsequent developments aided the growth and development of the Henderson band, but the fabled "frustration" occurred as the Depression arrived and Henderson was unable to promote and finance his band, given the dire economic conditions, and ended as a purveyor of scores to others, scores they used, made great hits and from which they profited hugely, while Henderson had to scuffle on the bare margins of the big time. Magee invokes critics Martin Williams and Amiri Baraka to evaluate the "frustration" thesis and the ambiguous "collaboration" between Benny Goodman, the crowned king of swing, and Fletcher Henderson, the uncrowned and often unacknowledged king. It hinges on both musical considerations and ideas of social justice and leaves readers a question to resolve themselves.
Despite some burdens of miniature-score reading and too-dense analysis, Magee offers a valuable and thorough story of a major shaper of jazz history. The road to the kingdom of swing runs straight through provinces Henderson discovered and charted a decade and more before the gaudy swingsters took the stage.
November 2008 issue | © 2008 The Mississippi Rag
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