Insufferable jazz wankers.
High on my imaginary hit list are jazz musicians. I have to say 'imaginary' otherwise Substack will take me literally and restrict my account.
I’ll caveat this by saying #NotAllJazzMusicians. I’ve met some thoroughly lovely people within the jazz fraternity so there’s no need to come for me.
Interestingly, most of the wanky ones I’ve met were lurking within the amateur circuit. If you’ve ever been part of that weird, and occasionally wonderful world, you’ll know what I mean. The same goes for wannabe actors dabbling in am-dram. Folks who overestimate their abilities are hilarious. Their pretensions crack me the fuck up. If you’ve ever performed in a trio/quartet/collective/think tank—or any other cunty name jazzers like to call themselves, you’ll know only too well what I’m talking about.
The jazz pros are not immune to jazz wankdom but unlike the hobbyists, jazz is their job. They do the gig, get paid and go home. And for the most part, these people are seriously good which seems to go hand in hand with not being a wanker.
But what many jazzers have in common is their air of superiority.
It’s a genre of music that attracts intellectuals and boffins. Like classical music, it’s difficult to play so it takes time to learn the theory and acquire the practical skill. Yes, some lucky bastards have a natural aptitude and an instinctive talent for the art. But there is a vibe amongst jazz wankers that great music isn’t great unless it’s difficult to learn/perform.
Pop is easy by comparison. It’s simpleton’s music and a jazz wanker wouldn’t lower themselves to listen to it let alone play it. Coz if you can’t jazz-jizz all over a tune with complex improvisations, what’s the fucking point?
All this culminates in making jazz elitist.
Which is ironic considering poor people invented it. And that’s the annoying thing with the middle class, they steal things and ruin them. They have the infuriating habit of gentrifying art forms—they rid them of their original spit and vigour. So now jazz is posh and gets played in hotel function rooms and upscale bars. It has become bourgeois and boring, which goes for anything accepted by the establishment.
You’ve probably noticed I have a little jazz chip on my shoulder.
Well, as a singer—sorry, vocalist, I’m loathed by most of the jazz community. And I have opinions on why that is (no surprise there).
In general, musicians have huge egos. Jazz musicians have some of the biggest, possibly because each one considers themselves a soloist. Amusingly they perceive singers as egomaniacs. I can see why, vocalists are the centre of attention in most bands. But like nearly everything, jazz is a sausage party. And quite often the only women who dare take to the stage are vocalists, so I suspect misogyny also has its role to play. So yeah, as a singer you mustn't expect equality. In reality, you’re bottom of the pile in terms of value. Interestingly, musicians who also sing will often view their vocal talent as secondary. But being a vocalist and musician is the only way you’ll gain any respect from a jazz wanker.
I can play three instruments, btw but sadly I play all of them with varying degrees of mediocrity.
One last thing: if you want to piss a jazz musician off, refer to them as a guitarist—or whatever it is they play. Oh, and piano players ‘love’ to be called keyboard players. Failing that, stick to calling them jazz wankers.
It’s such a shame when anything good gets appropriated as a status marker.
I hate jazz. That’s too strong a word but I’ve never heard any jazz I liked. It just didn’t move me. Even worse, because I can see how, as well as a form of music, it’s a status marker, I can’t be sure ANYONE ELSE likes jazz either.
The best thing about jazz is that it has taken the elitism away from classical music, which I do love. I think classical music is just seen as a bit weird now that the best people like jazz.
Sorry, just riffin’ on a theme here.
As I just re-stacked this. The foundation of jazz is in blues, but yeah, some tragic takeovers, no doubt! I was a “vocalist” for a jazz ensemble in Los Angeles. That lasted about three gigs, and I’d had enough of the bastards—and their girlfriends, with their horrified stares at something new on stage.