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Jelly's Blues: The Life, Music, and Redemption of Jelly Roll Morton
Jelly's Blues vividly recounts the tumultuous life of Jelly Roll Morton (1890-1941), born Ferdinand Joseph Lamonthe to a large, extended family in New Orleans. A virtuoso pianist with a larger-than-life personality, he composed such influential early jazz pieces as "Kansas City Stomp" and "New Orleans Blues." But by the late 1930s, Jelly Roll Morton was nearly forgotten as a visionary jazz composer. Instead, he was caricatured as a braggart, a hustler, and, worst of all, a has-been. He was ridiculed by the white popular press and robbed of due royalties by unscrupulous music publishers. His reputation at rock bottom, Jelly Roll Morton seemed destined to be remembered more as a flamboyant, diamond-toothed rounder than as the brilliant architect of that new American musical Jazz.In 1992, the death of a New Orleans memorabilia collector unearthed a startling archive. Here were unknown later compositions as well as correspondence, court and copyright records, all detailing Morton's struggle to salvage his reputation, recover lost royalties, and protect the publishing rights of black musicians. Morton was a much more complex and passionate man than many had realized, fiercely dedicated to his art and possessing an unwavering belief in his own genius, even as he toiled in poverty and obscurity. An especially immediate and visceral look into the jazz worlds of New Orleans and Chicago, Jelly's Blues is the definitive biography of a jazz icon, and a long overdue look at one of the twentieth century's most important composers.
320 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2003
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
January 30, 2018
Biography of Morton that utilized a lot of new material from William Russell's Morton archives. In a large sense, Jelly's Blues was conceived as a corrective to the Alan Lomax book on Jelly Roll. I've not read the Lomax book, but he is often criticized for trying to make his african american sources fit his own stereotypes about their lives and for focussing on the non-musical parts of their lives. The Lomax book was drawn from his recorded conversations with morton at the Library of Congress; however, Lomax conducted these interviews with little real knowledge about the origins of jazz or the history of New Orleans at that time. So the interviews are both very valuable primary sources, but also limited by Lomax's own limitations.
Anyways, Lomax's book was published in 1950, since then a lot of material has come to light that wasn't available at that time. Reich and Gaines are able to document things that Morton said in the Lomax interviews that were long dismissed as exagerations.
Jelly's Blues is structured into two sections--the first looks at his rise, the second at his downfall. I am no Morton expert, but I don't know how well I think the first part of the book does at portraying Morton's early years. Whatever weaknesses of the first part, though, the real strength of the book is in its portrayal of Morton's downfall. The book shows how Morton was swindeled by the publisher Walter Melrose and, later ASCAP. In fact, I had no idea how horrible ASCAP had been and how incredibly racist it was until Feds began investigating. So the second part is well-done but very very sad.
It is just incredible--as swing music is on the rise, Morton can turn on the radio and come across some big band version of his song, King Porter's Stomp...and he was not seeing a dime from that. Yes, Morton was a difficult person, but sheesh what a fucking maddening situation--to be in desperate poverty while plenty of people are profiting off of your work.
One weakness of the book is that in attempting to redeem Morton, I think the authors err a bit in the other direction. Obviously, Morton had plenty of reason to be cranky, but I still don't think the authors do a good job of getting at his tendency to be a difficult person who often alienated people.
Overall--a very good chronicle of Jelly Roll's downfall, which makes for a very sad story.
Anyways, Lomax's book was published in 1950, since then a lot of material has come to light that wasn't available at that time. Reich and Gaines are able to document things that Morton said in the Lomax interviews that were long dismissed as exagerations.
Jelly's Blues is structured into two sections--the first looks at his rise, the second at his downfall. I am no Morton expert, but I don't know how well I think the first part of the book does at portraying Morton's early years. Whatever weaknesses of the first part, though, the real strength of the book is in its portrayal of Morton's downfall. The book shows how Morton was swindeled by the publisher Walter Melrose and, later ASCAP. In fact, I had no idea how horrible ASCAP had been and how incredibly racist it was until Feds began investigating. So the second part is well-done but very very sad.
It is just incredible--as swing music is on the rise, Morton can turn on the radio and come across some big band version of his song, King Porter's Stomp...and he was not seeing a dime from that. Yes, Morton was a difficult person, but sheesh what a fucking maddening situation--to be in desperate poverty while plenty of people are profiting off of your work.
One weakness of the book is that in attempting to redeem Morton, I think the authors err a bit in the other direction. Obviously, Morton had plenty of reason to be cranky, but I still don't think the authors do a good job of getting at his tendency to be a difficult person who often alienated people.
Overall--a very good chronicle of Jelly Roll's downfall, which makes for a very sad story.
October 19, 2011
Excellent, well-researched book about one of the best composers of American music. Reich succeeds in depicting Morton as a human being (in many senses a wronged unfairly treated human being) rather than as a myth or larger than life legend. Knowing the struggles of Morton (many of which were of his own making) provides only more meaning to his compositions
August 28, 2016
Read the first half, skimmed the second half. It's repetitive.
September 16, 2021
The heroic Ferdinand 'Jelly Roll' Morton
This fascinating biography provides a fuller, more rounded portrait of the great popular artist thanks to the William Russell archive, an extraordinary collection of memorabilia and correspondence, some rescued from the rubbish bin. It corrects the false impression of Morton the braggart and egotist, to show a dignified and resilient man who was never discouraged from reviving his music career or pursuing justice despite failing health and constant setbacks at the end of his life. Morton was the first jazz composer, the first to write it down in carefully set out arrangements and an outstanding band leader. He fell out of fashion in the 1930s, despite the fact that Benny Goodman's 1935 recording of his 1905 piano piece, King Porter Stomp practically launched the Swing Era. He was swindled out of his music royalties by crooked publishers and treated appallingly by the trade body ASCAP. He was forced to pawn clothes and his watch to finance his comeback, his failures often heartbreaking. He sold fewer than a dozen sheet music copies out of 3,000 he printed of a special composition to mark a Harlem parade attended by thousands. Undaunted, he sought a fresh start in Los Angeles, making the 2,800 mile journey from New York City by car with a second attached. The indifference of the jazz establishment to his plight was disgraceful. Benny Goodman, who as a teenage musician had watched Morton rehearse at the Melrose publishing offices in Chicago, could have tried to use his wealth and influence, rather than have his manager John Hammond return Morton's scores with scarcely a word of thanks. Yet Jelly came good, long after his passing in 1941. Congress legislated in the 50s and ASCAP cleaned up its act. The 1938 Library of Congress recordings by Alan Lomax are a priceless oral record of the development of jazz and personal memoir. His big band arrangements, buried in the Russell archives until the 1990s, are a revelation; original, advanced and with a New Orleans blues feeling, quite unlike his contemporaries. (Are there any recordings of these?) Gaines and Reich have made an important contribution to restoring the reputation of a remarkable character and a great American artist.
This fascinating biography provides a fuller, more rounded portrait of the great popular artist thanks to the William Russell archive, an extraordinary collection of memorabilia and correspondence, some rescued from the rubbish bin. It corrects the false impression of Morton the braggart and egotist, to show a dignified and resilient man who was never discouraged from reviving his music career or pursuing justice despite failing health and constant setbacks at the end of his life. Morton was the first jazz composer, the first to write it down in carefully set out arrangements and an outstanding band leader. He fell out of fashion in the 1930s, despite the fact that Benny Goodman's 1935 recording of his 1905 piano piece, King Porter Stomp practically launched the Swing Era. He was swindled out of his music royalties by crooked publishers and treated appallingly by the trade body ASCAP. He was forced to pawn clothes and his watch to finance his comeback, his failures often heartbreaking. He sold fewer than a dozen sheet music copies out of 3,000 he printed of a special composition to mark a Harlem parade attended by thousands. Undaunted, he sought a fresh start in Los Angeles, making the 2,800 mile journey from New York City by car with a second attached. The indifference of the jazz establishment to his plight was disgraceful. Benny Goodman, who as a teenage musician had watched Morton rehearse at the Melrose publishing offices in Chicago, could have tried to use his wealth and influence, rather than have his manager John Hammond return Morton's scores with scarcely a word of thanks. Yet Jelly came good, long after his passing in 1941. Congress legislated in the 50s and ASCAP cleaned up its act. The 1938 Library of Congress recordings by Alan Lomax are a priceless oral record of the development of jazz and personal memoir. His big band arrangements, buried in the Russell archives until the 1990s, are a revelation; original, advanced and with a New Orleans blues feeling, quite unlike his contemporaries. (Are there any recordings of these?) Gaines and Reich have made an important contribution to restoring the reputation of a remarkable character and a great American artist.
October 30, 2018
Great biography of a true innovator. I'm assuming his story is not unique. A Creole man from New Orleans creates an American art form, and never, ever got the recognition so duly deserved. Between a racist society, a cut throat industry, and music publishers seeking to get rich of the mans vision and talent. Morton never gained the fame he deserved until long after his death. Morton kept trying when most men would have given up. I really admire the man even more.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews