Latin Jazz: The Other Jazz by Christopher Washburne (review)

Abstract

Reviewed by: Latin Jazz: The Other Jazz by Christopher Washburne Jessica Sequeira Latin Jazz: The Other Jazz. By Christopher Washburne. (Currents in Latin American and Iberian Music) Oxford: Oxford University Press. 2020. xi+ 216 pp. £75. ISBN 978–0–19–537162–8. Christopher Washburne begins his lively book with an excerpt from Jorge Luis Borges's 'The Cruel Redeemer Lazarus Morell', quoting it as he traces the effects of the African presence in the United States, and the 'remote cause' for phenomena such as the popularity of the song 'The Peanut Vendor'. Washburne frames his work as a 'sonic ecology' (p. 110) and an 'exploration of Latin jazz through the lens of Borgesian entangled histories' (p. 3); he describes how bandleader Don Azpiazú brought Cuban rhythms into the mainstream through this song, despite its suggestive Spanish lyrics about eating peanuts from a cone. A 1930 version by Louis Armstrong reworked it with a 2/3 clave pattern, change of maní (peanuts) to Marie, and castanets in the foreground; quickly on its heels came a 1931 Duke Ellington version mixing Cuban rumba, Trinidadidan calypso, and Harlem stride, expanding a black musical archipelago (Havana, Port of Spain, Harlem). Washburne approaches Latin jazz as a global music, a 'nexus of intercultural exchange where African American traditions are blended with Latin American cultural ones' (p. 3). Alternative terms are Afro-Latin, Afro-Cuban, Caribbean jazz, jazz latin, Cubop and (per Jelly Roll Morton) 'the Spanish tinge'. Indeed, despite [End Page 589] his title, Washburne argues that Latin jazz is not 'other' but a tree in a shared grove, aspens with an interconnected root system (p. 177). Latin jazz survives as an efficient label to help musicians get gigs. Giving some history of jazz roots, Washburne makes the case for layered history including Latin American—not just African American—elements. Emerging from New Orleans, with Congo Square as symbolic place of origin, it is a 'confluence of slavery, colonialism, plantation life, postcolonialism, emancipation' (p. 9). New Orleans was aligned with French and Spanish colonies, and imported slaves from Senegambia (West Africa); slaves also had connections first with Haiti and then with Cuba, where they migrated after the 1790s slave uprisings of the Napoleonic Wars. All of these moments can be heard in jazz rhythms. In the 1920s and 1930s Spanish Harlem—with its own immigration history—became the industry recording capital. The 'rumba' (actually son pregón, mislabelled by record executives) took off. New instruments such as the flute and conga drum became popular in jazz as a result of Latin American influence, as did rhythms such as the tresillo, cinquillo, and clave. In 1931 the Gretsch Percussion Company began to produce bongos, clave, aracas, güiros, cowbells, and timbales. Cuban influences also brought limb independence to jazz drumming, solos over static chord progressions, non-functional harmonies, and Afro-Cuban modal tonalities. Washburne's primary methodological strategy is his recourse to the experience of his performance career, since he played with many of the people he writes about. He admits his account is New York-centric—Latin jazz could also be studied in London, Berlin, Goa, or Moscow—but wants to recuperate a 'counter memory' (p. 10) for his town. He delves into the biographies of key figures such as Chano Pozo, Dizzy Gillespie, Celia Cruz, and Eddie Palmieri, also looking at contemporaries such as Miguel Zenón, Bobby Zanabia, Michele Rosewoman, and Carlos Henriquez. He pays attention to Jewish mediations, and recent Mexican and Puerto Rican immigration waves. Many anecdotes suggest the politicized nature of jazz. The Best Latin Jazz Album Grammy was introduced, eliminated, and reintroduced; Arturo O'Farrell, who led Lincoln Center's Afro-Latin Jazz Orchestra, was fired by Wynton Marsalis for wanting more Latin elements (Marsalis appears as a complex figure, a 'jazz traditionalist' (p. 146)); Ray Barretto, frustrated at the pigeonholing of a Parisian fan insistent on Latin rhythms, screamed 'Fuck you! And fuck all of France!' (p. 29). Washburne reflects on the ambiguous status of jazz as art music; the first Ph.D. dissertations about jazz were not written until the 1970s, half a century after the first recordings, and serious studies like his are rare...