Kenyon College - CASE

kenyon professors reflect on the life of the mind
musings
theodore buehrer ’91,
even laughter erupt as the rest of us “listen in”
on the ongoing conversation.
The baritone saxophonist, for example,
repeatedly dips into his growly register for a
low pitch—and the drummer begins to antici-
office houRs
pate, accenting each low honk with a shot
office houRs harmonic attack that releases the built-up
James D. and Cornelia W. Ireland Associate Professor of Music
Putting Jazz in its Place
There are no clubs in the cornfields, but Kenyon
produces transcendent jazz moments too
It sometimes feels peculiar leading
Kenyon’s jazz ensemble. I don’t mean that the
study of jazz shouldn’t have a place in academia.
On the contrary, the last fifty years have seen
an explosion of interest in jazz education, and
this is as it should be. Today, jazz is more widely
celebrated as an art form than at any time in
its history.
No, it has more to do with our distinctive
local culture. At Kenyon, we proudly embrace
our rural character: the countryside, the farms
and small towns, the local foods. Our musical
heritage, meanwhile, draws heavily on choral
traditions that perhaps reflect our roots in the
Episcopal Church. In addition, our immediate
surroundings have fed an interest in folk music,
as evidenced in the success of the Gambier Folk
Festival that ran from 1971 to 1996.
Louis Armstrong once astutely observed that
“all music is folk music . . . I ain’t never heard no
horse sing a song.” Wordplay aside, where does
jazz fit into the local picture? Jazz grew up not
amid rolling hills and cornfields but in bustling
urban centers like New Orleans, Chicago, and
New York. These cities remain the epicenters of
jazz activity in America today.
What place does jazz have at Kenyon College
in Gambier, Ohio?
Beyond the obvious educational value—a
liberal arts education should include this hugely
influential American art form, including its
history and cultural significance—I would point
to the participatory nature of jazz. When I lead
rehearsals, especially of smaller combos, they
can take the form of organized jam sessions,
where the students themselves generate song
lists and trade ideas in a collaborative way, as I
facilitate from the side.
It is for this reason that we (like most jazz
groups) practice in a circle, facing one another
rather than an imagined audience. Every musical
and visual cue can spark a spontaneous
response. On countless occasions, as a soloist
and rhythm section play together, smiles and
Isabel Da Silva Azevedo Drouyer
to the floor tom. The rest of the group nods
knowingly, as if to say: “He’s listening.”
The trombonist finishes his solo with neat
melodic lick—which the guitarist repeats as
she launches into her own improvisation, as if
to say: “He was good, but I can do that, too.”
Approving smiles all around.
A trumpeter’s sixteenth-note flourish
is answered on the snare drum, then pingponged
to an accompanying figure provided
by the pianist, culminating in a spontaneous
full-ensemble crescendo and melodic/
tension. These are transcendent moments for
jazz performers; they send chills down our
spines. It’s jazz at its best.
In jazz performance, students learn
first-hand Miles Davis’s axiom: “Do not fear
mistakes; there are none.” That’s a lesson
which extends far beyond the rehearsal studio.
This dynamic of participation and
response pulls in the audience, too. At our
concerts, we’re spurred on by enthusiastic
listeners who applaud after solos or give a
shout-out to an especially exciting musical
climax. Sometimes our players surprise their
friends with their improvisatory prowess
because it reveals a side of them that the other
students never knew.
Last fall, the Class of 2012 grooved to the
jazz and funk tunes provided by our jazz
combos during the Senior Soiree in the Great
Hall, and the players commented to me afterwards
about the energy and excitement
of performing for a crowd so engaged with
their music.
Whether in our concert halls, at class
parties, or on the bandstand at the Village
Inn, jazz contributes to the larger musical and
artistic culture at Kenyon by providing opportunities
for people to come together. To use
the words of Daniel Kemmis, who has written
eloquently about the value of community, jazz
enables people “to live well in a place.”
And what’s more important to Kenyon
than its shared sense of community? Maybe
jazz in Gambier isn’t so peculiar after all.