Mingus: fun read!

It took me a couple passes at reading the first couple paragraphs of chapter one from Beneath the Underdog to really get what was going on.  Upon reflection, though, I made a connection almost instantly between the sounds of bebop and the way that Mingus describes himself.  I don’t know if I’m interpreting this right, but there’s multi-faceted nature to jazz and bebop in the way that several musical voices converse—each with their own contributions and tangents.  The concept of Mingus as three distinct people evokes a vision of a small jazz combo.  A “frightened animal that attacks for fear of being attacked” reminds me of a blazingly fast trumpet riff; the emotive Mingus Three conveys a complicated series of rises and falls and textures.  I don’t know if I’m reading too much into this...but musically, that’s how I associate that first seemingly significant paragraph.  The colloquial, stream-of-consciousness style Mingus employs brings the reality of racism and prejudice to life for me.  There is also a peculiar contrast between the way chapter one is written and the way chapters 2 through 5 proceed; in that the tone of the first chapter (presumably toward the end of Mingus’s life, or at least when he’s much older) is one of bitter disillusionment, frustration, and pent-up aggression.  In the ensuing chapters, the life of Mingus is portrayed innocently, yet in a sometimes cruelly realistic fashion.

With regards to the obsession with “proving you’re a man,” I feel that is a universally experienced pressure by males and I can totally relate.  Despite feminists accomplishing a lot on behalf of gender equality over the last century, the intense expectation placed on men to be as ‘macho’ as possible (though it varies by culture—for instance, having studied Spanish literature, I know Spanish culture places the virtue of Machismo on the highest of pedestals) is rampant in our culture today.  T.V. sitcoms, big, bulky movie stars saving damsels in distress, the pressure to be super fit, the stigma associated with crying...there are so many cultural elements that alienate any man with behaviors linked to being “weak.”  But in Mingus’s case, it’s out of a frustration and indignation of having been subjugated by the white man.  His resulting behavior of acting out in a way many would consider to be immoral is a manifestation of his frustration with a white-dominated society.  On page 6 he comments that “they make us famous and give us names—the King of this, the Count of that, the Duke of what!”  To me this illustrates his frustration with the commodification of black art and its mass distribution throughout white society.  He even goes so far as to say he would “dig death  more than ...facing this white world.”  That is some pretty heavy stuff, and even though he didn’t live through slavery, the segregation and horrors described in the next couple chapters alone are enough to make me understand where he’s coming from.  

Mingus’s dad keeps telling him not to get involved or mixed up with “black niggers” and that they are better than darker-skinned blacks.  He essentially tries to  instill racial prejudice in his children and draw a line between darker-skinned african americans and lighter skinned ones.  This reminded me of our class discussion about how Creoles were thought of as whites at one point in New Orleans when they were contributing to the musical scene, but were then thought of as blacks and of a lower social order.  It also brought to mind a hot topic on sports blogs several years ago whether or not Sacramento Kings basketball star Mike Bibby is black or white.  I checked out a blog on google and the first one I clicked on (http://community.sportsbubbler.com/forums/t/71201.aspx ) contained offended bloggers’ comments regarding someone even posing the question.  On one hand it just goes to show how it doesn’t matter the color of their skin, it’s simply the level of talent.  But on the other hand, it shows how obsessed people are with creating distinctions and classifying other people.  It’s mentioned in several blogs that Mike Bibby IDENTIFIES himself as black, but many people seem to classify him according to what they see.  I’m Jewish by virtue of the fact that my mom is Jewish...but I do NOT identify myself as Jewish whatsoever.  But I’ve spoken to many Jews who INSIST that I am Jewish.  I just think it’s silly for someone else to classify me as something I don’t want to be identified with...although that takes this blog down an entirely different path. I know sports isn’t really related to music, but I thought this example of racial identity appropriate to include after having read.  

Although I found a lot of what I read in the first five chapters entertaining and “bloggable” I’ll end with my most stirring musical connection I found.  On page 37 he describes Mr. Rodia’s three towers—three masts decorated by an Italian man which he would continually build and disassemble and rebuild in endless cycles of creativity.  This, to me, was a very clear allusion to the act of improvisation and jazz:  the mastery of the form (erecting three very basic pillars), the deformation of mastery (taking them down), and the reformation of form (rebuilding different styles and decorated towers).  The taking apart, additions to, subtractions from, and rebuilding of the three same structures resulted in an every changing set of structures that kept people entertained.  That’s exactly what jazz improvisation is and how it was described to us in class.  Mingus mentions how very much he “marveled at what he was doing”—intimating that the towers and methods of Mr. Rodia might have impacted his improvisations later in life musically.  In the realm of Bebop, the style was also about self-discovery and giving oneself the time to screw up a thousand times before finding something good; which is what Mr. Rodia embodied by taking years and years to work on the one project and change it to his liking.  One last tie to make would be that Mr. Rodia, upon finishing his work, gave it to a neighbor and went away somewhere unknown.  It reminded me of how many jazz musicians tinker and play a piece differently in each and every performance for years and once the piece is recorded (the buildings are “finished”) he/she abandons the piece altogether and moves on to something else, just as Mr. Rodia did.