Not generally familiar with theatre and theatrical productions, I must confess, nonetheless, that I saw a wonderful play tonight that made me contemplate both (1) the muckety-muck of the world as it is and has been, or perhaps, the world as a has-been; and, (2) more importantly from a personal perspective and, quite frankly, more strangely, some of the wonderful reasons why I love jazz music. The play, GroundUp Theatre’s interpretation of “A Murder of Crows”, certainly does not explicitly deal with the complexities and mannerisms of the greatest music the world has seen and heard. Indeed, it is not a piece about jazz in any shape or form. But let us contemplate for a moment the questions in particular as they were theatrically-raised by “Murder”: to begin, how does one raise serious issues via the inclusion of humor and subversion and sans the obvious need to proselytize (true art, of course, follows the peculiar why’s and wherefores of its own muse). In addition: how generous, malleable and elastic is the narrative form without itself rupturing into the bottomless abyss of the avant-‘tard, the strange point of no return where meaning is lost and sympathy, empathy and the very idea of relating to others in a humane way is thrown under the bus and then, for good measure, shipwrecked on the murky rocks of narcissism and cynicism? Finally: at what point does the interpretation of performance border the contours of improvisation, even when it is itself grounded by the well-heeled parameters of scripted storyline and thought-out and planned dialogue? The nexus between these two seemingly disparate and contradictory formats? Why, the smiles of satisfaction that consequently follow when one encounters the sounds and sights of surprise, particularly when such surprises are cloaked in humorous absurdity!
“A Murder of Crows” is most certainly eloquently and creatively presented by GroundUp Theatre Company. Poignant and thoughtful in the breadth and scope of its exposition and presentation, but eschewing the obviousness of a sledgehammer while remaining proudly “in your face”, GroundUp’s efforts collectively and director Don Johnson’s overall individual vision do a great job in bringing flowing coherence and logic to a storyline that is itself more “high wire act” than the conventional recipe of plotline and characterization. Indeed, in its own way and on its own terms, “Murder” raises a surreal mirror up to contemporary American society, akin to a modern day Jonathan Swift modestly proposing, so-to-speak.
And how does it subvert form and narrative while, nonetheless, coherently and valiantly telling a worthwhile and needed story? For some strange reason, a specific era Miles comes to mind as a tenuous and provisional analogy. More precisely, this play made me think of Miles Davis’ second great quintet, (the one with Wayne Shorter, Tony Williams, Herbie Hancock and Ron Carter), the mid-sixties outfit that attempted to respond to the avant-garde/ free jazz oracles of that day by retaining form, harmony, rhythm and pulse while abandoning the formulaic straightjackets of the Great American Songbook, and its constituent AABA and 12 bar coattails.
Perhaps this analogy is overstated. Nonetheless, “Murder” remains a wonderful, thought-provoking and creatively executed endeavor. Will it find an audience? I most certainly hope so. But given the times we are living in that the play itself so eloquently critiques, who can really say? On a related subject, what is the proper motivation for someone who is artistically-inclined to tangibly follow through with such inclinations?
The final word on this final subject belongs to the greatest living musician of our time and one of the greatest of all time, Mr. Sonny Rollins, who answered thusly to aspiring jazz musicians attempting to find an audience, if not having the outright audacity to make a living from the elusive qualities of their art. Perhaps his sage advice goes without saying for those who attempt to do art, literature, and theatre worthy of merit and motivated by its own needs and serving its own ends.
“Well, to conclude, what advice or guidance do you have for aspiring young jazz musicians?"
SR: What you have to confront if you’re a young gifted musician is what some people call the “real world.” But your music, which is the real real world, that comes first. The world of making a living, putting bread on the table, you meet a girl and get married, support a family. But music takes a lot of time and dedication. You run up against the so-called “real world,” so that’s a big wall between your aspirations and what you are actually able to accomplish. If you love music and think you have some aptitude, then I would just say, “Do it to the greatest level you can, feel privileged that you have that gift, and as for the rest, who can say?”
Being a musician and raising a family are often two antithetical things. But as far as the music, if you have the aptitude, the talent, and you love it, consider yourself blessed that you have that understanding and love of music in this life. That in itself is a great blessing. But as far as earning a living, there’s not much one can say. We live in a world that’s all about making money and having things—big cars, big homes—and you’re running into a conflict. But if you love music, there’s nothing like it. If you’re gifted and you can play it, I wish you well, and just continue doing it. But don’t expect anything, because in the world in which we live, people who are artists, painters, musicians, writers, we can’t expect anything in this world. The way the world is set up, it’s not for us. But it’s not a negative thing. It’s still a wonderful thing anyway. (emphasis original)
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