The Berklee College of Music in Boston is one of the better schools of music in America, somewhat like Juilliard but not as good and, importantly, Berklee, unlike Juilliard concentrates on modern music. Wikipedia says this about it:

Berklee College of Music (/ˈbɜːrkli/) is a private music college in Boston, Massachusetts. It is the largest independent college of contemporary music in the world. Known for the study of jazz and modern American music, it also offers college-level courses in a wide range of contemporary and historic styles, including rock, hip hop, reggae, salsa, heavy metal and bluegrass.

I knew about it when I lived in Boston and Cambridge, but at that time Berklee didn’t have this (click to read):

What does jazz have to do with gender justice. Well, these days one might well ask the question, “What doesn’t have to do with gender justice?” When you see the name, you can almost write the specifics, a few of which are indented below:

What would jazz sound like in a culture without patriarchy?

The jazz industry remains predominantly male due to a biased system, imposing a significant toll on those who aspire to work in it. In understanding the importance of balance and equity, the goal of the Berklee Institute of Jazz and Gender Justice is to do corrective work and modify the way jazz is perceived and presented, so the future of jazz looks different than its past without rendering invisible many of the art form’s creative contributors.

The Berklee Institute of Jazz and Gender Justice will focus on equity in the jazz field and the role that jazz plays in the larger struggle for gender justice. The institute will celebrate the contributions women have made in the development of the art form as well as frame more equitable conditions for all pursuing careers in jazz in an effort to work toward a necessary and lasting cultural shift in the field.

Inclusive to All

We welcome students of all gender and sexual identities to achieve the goal of true gender diversity in the field. The institute will work to address gender inequities at the college through curriculum, recruitment, residencies, performances, research, and community engagement.

Our Mission

The mission of the Berklee Institute of Jazz and Gender Justice is to support and sustain a cultural transformation in jazz, with the commitment to recruit, teach, mentor, and advocate for musicians seeking to study or perform jazz, with gender justice and racial justice as guiding principles.

Our Values

• Imagination
• Equity
• Freedom
• Identity

Our Vision

We cultivate creative practice and scholarship within an integrated and egalitarian setting. We seek to engage ourselves and others in the pursuit of jazz without patriarchy, and in making a long-lasting cultural shift in the overall music community, recognizing the role that jazz can play in the larger struggle for social justice.

Note that they are striving for equity, which means that they want their students and professors, and jazz in general, to be absolutely representative of the sex admixture in America itself. That is, 50% of jazz performers and composers are to be female.  The implicit assumption is that this lack of equity reflects sexism and the patriarchy which of course needs to be shown.

Further, the explicit assumption is that the two sexes (or people who don’t identify as “cis”) will produce different types of jazz, a type that is not “male biased”—a jazz not infused with the sound of patriarchy.  That, too, is a problematic assumption.

I don’t think I need to muse about the wokeness represented by this institute, which attempts to achieve jazz equity by admitting and educating students after they’ve already finished high school. That, too, is problematic, for if there are biases or inequalities of opportunity that impinge on the sexes earlier in life, then perhaps they can’t be rectified in college.

At any rate, here are the questions that Berklee should have asked itself before founding this institute:

1. By striving for equity, you are assuming that members of both sexes (or those who don’t identify as members of their biological sex) have an equal desire to create, sing, or play jazz, and the absence of this equity reflects biases (this is implicit in the word “patriarchy”.   What evidence do you have for this equality of desires?
2. Are there possibly other reasons for an absence of women in jazz beyond “patriarchy”?  Could women not have less of a preference to play or compose jazz than do men? Or are they less competitive musically—less willing to put in the many hours needed to excel when there are other things to be interested in, or less competitive because, as some have suggested, excelling in music is a way to attract mates. (This “sexual selection” hypothesis might be least partly possible: I remember Charlie Parker saying that although he wasn’t any great shake in looks, his ability with the sax got him a lot of sex.)  In other words, what evidence do you have that inequities are not due to factors other than biases?
3. You state explicitly that the forms of jazz produced by musicians with “equity” would be different from what it is like today?  This assumes that the sexes have, on average, palpably different ways of producing or playing jazz. What evidence do you have for this?
4. Why do you think it is possible to rectify any biases against women in jazz by taking action on the college level? Would it not be better to afford everyone equal opportunities to become jazz composers or musicians when they are younger?  And what if affording such equal opportunity still produced inequities, as it would if the sexes differed in abilities, interests, or preferences? Would you still try to achieve equality of representation?

Now I’ve listened to a lot of jazz, and yes, there is a paucity of women composers and players, though there are plenty of women who sing jazz. But before I’d try to construct a program that is designed to turn out equal numbers of male and female players and composers, I’d sure like to know the answers to the questions above. But I doubt Berklee even asked themselves these questions, and, if they didn’t, then what they have is a performative institute—in both senses of the word.

On one of my CDs I have an old 1945 version of Charlie Parker playing “All the Things You Are,” with notes that it came from “Early Bird: The Best of the 1945 Studio Recordings.”  I accidentally hit the “play button” on my iTunes site, where I put it, and listened to the song, immensely impressed. It’s done a group, but the main player on my version is Bird (his pal Dizzy Gillespie is on trumpet).

Sadly, I couldn’t find that version of the song on YouTube, but I found a couple by Diz and Bird that were close, and both show Parker’s tremendous dexterity and improvisation. I’ve put two versions below.  For some reason, jazz greats like these always recognized which popular songs, like this one, could be turned into jazz classics. But the jazz-ability of pop songs is also part of their structure (see below):

“All the Things You Are” was written by Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein and introduced in a play in 1939.  The Wikipedia entry says this:

The chorus has become a favorite with many jazz musicians. The chorus is a 36-measure AA₂BA₃ form with two twists on the usual 32-bar AABA song-form: A₂ transposes the initial A section down a fourth, while the final A₃ section adds an extra four bars.

. . .The modulations in this song are unusual for a pop song of the period and present challenges to a singer or improviser, including a semitone modulation that ends each A section (these modulations start with measure 6 in the A and A₂ sections and measure 9 of the A₃ section), and a striking use of enharmonic substitution at the turnaround of the B section (last two measures of the B Section), where the G♯ melody note over a E major chord turns into an A♭ over the F minor 7 of measure 1 of section A₃.

Because of its combination of a strong melody and challenging but logical chord structure, “All the Things You Are” has become a popular jazz standard. Its changes have been used for such contrafact tunes as “Bird of Paradise” by Charlie Parker,^[2] “Prince Albert” by Kenny Dorham, “All The Things That You Can C#” by Charles Mingus, and “Boston Bernie” by Dexter Gordon. “Thingin'” by Lee Konitz introduced a further harmonic twist by transposing the chords of the second half of the tune by a tritone.

Well, I don’t know from enharmonic substitutions, but I do know modulation, and I love these versions. This first one starts with Diz’s trumpet, with Parker entering at 0:43. But there’s not enough Parker in this version.

The musicians are given as Dizzy Gillespie ( trumpet), Charlie Parker (alto sax), Clyde Heart [sic, it’s “Hart”) (piano), Remo Palmieri [sic, it’s Palmier] (guitar), Slam Stewart (bass), Cozy Cloe [sic; it’s “Cole“] (drums).   Slam Stewart is particularly good on bass, but all the solos are very good. This is jazz at its best. 

This one has more Bird and hence more improvisation, but it’s still not as good as the 1945 version I have but can’t post. However, this one is still terrific. Diz comes in at 1:33.

Inspired by yesterday’s post of Dylan and Johnny Cash singing “Girl from the North Country”, I got juiced up to make a list of the Dylan songs I love most.

I could have called this post (which will be a pleasure to write), “The best Bob Dylan songs,” but of course music is a matter of taste. After all, I hear that some people even like the music of Taylor Swift.  I originally intended to post my favorite 20 Bob Dylan songs, but I whittled it down to thirteen and, reviewing all his albums, I can’t find any other song that is par with these. But of course readers might find some that I’ve missed, and at any rate feel free to comment below. Since this is a subjective matter, also feel free to criticize my choices.

All these songs were written by Dylan, and I’ve put in clips for every one, though some show performances with other people, and two don’t show Dylan at all.  That said, here we go. These are given in no particular order: they are just a selection I culled from reviewing his output. Links to the Wikipedia entries of each song are provided, and I’ve shown live performances when possible:

Positively 4th Street  (1965).  These are multiple takes from the studio recording:

My Back Pages (1964).  This is from the Dylan 30th Anniversary Concert in 1992, and there’s more rock talent onstage at this concert than I’ve seen in any other performance.  I won’t name all the singers and players as you should be able to recognize the stars, but I have to say that the guitar solo is stellar.

All Along the Watchtower (1967). The classic version by Hendrix, which Dylan liked better than his own. This is a live version from the Isle of Wight concert:

Mr. Tambourine Man (1965). From the Newport Folk Festival, introduced by Pete Seeger:

The Times They are A-Changin’ (1964). The caption gives the time and place: “Starlight Ballroom, Belleview Hotel, Clearwater, Florida, 22nd April 1976.”

Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door (1973). I think the recorded version (written for the movie “Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, is the best take (the echoes improve it a lot), but I’ve put up a good live version performed along with Tom Petty (and the Heartbreakers).

Love Minus Zero/No Limit (1965), from the 1971 Concert for Bangladesh in New York:

I Shall Be Released (1967). This is one of my very favorites.  And there’s never been better covers than those by Joan Baez (she was of course involved with Dylan). What a voice! This performance was at Woodstock, but you can see a duet with Dylan here.

It’s all Over Now, Baby Blue (1965).  This performance is from Manchester, England in 1965:

Tonight I’ll be Staying Here with You (1969). This may be a bit of a ringer, but I do love it. The best version is the recorded one:

Blowin’ in the Wind (1963). This is without doubt Dylan’s best protest song, and it’s a work of genius. Here’s a version from the Live Aid Concert in 1985, performed with Keith Richards and Ron Wood:

Girl from the North Country (1963). This version was performed with Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers (though I hear nobody but Dylan) in Australia in 1986:

Like a Rolling Stone (1965). This is surely on everyone’s list of favorite Dylan songs, and there’s no version like the recorded one. I must have heard it a gazillion times, but when the opening chords sound, I know I have to listen to the whole thing.  Al Kooper is on the organ.

It’s clear that I favor the early Dylan over the later one. Note that all of these songs, with the exception of “Heaven’s Door,” were released between 1963 and 1969.

Go here to see a list of Dylan’s favorite songs written other people. He considers Glenn Campbell’s “Wichita Lineman“, written by Jimmy Webb, to be “the greatest song ever written.” I can understand that, for it mirrors Dylan’s own style when he sings about love rather than politics.

Here’s an unusual pair of singers: Joni Mitchell performing the song “Long Black Veil” with Johnny Cash on his television show.

The history of the song from Wikipedia.  It’s been covered many times (see a version by Neil Young here, and one by Rod Stewart here).

“Long Black Veil” is a 1959 country ballad, written by Danny Dill and Marijohn Wilkin and originally recorded by Lefty Frizzell.

It is told from the point of view of a man falsely accused of murder and executed. He refuses to provide an alibi, since on the night of the murder he was having an extramarital affair with his best friend’s wife, and would rather die and take their secret to his grave than admit the truth. The chorus describes the woman’s mourning visits to his gravesite, wearing a long black veil and enduring a wailing wind.

In 2019, Frizzell’s version of “Long Black Veil” was selected by the Library of Congress for preservation in the National Recording Registry for being “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant”.

You can hear Lefty Frizzell’s preserved version here.

This was from the second episode of the Johnny Cash Show on June 21, 1969. He was 37 and she was only 26, but had already released two albums. They both get a chance to sing lead, and it’s a sad but beautiful duet. There’s a bit of pre-song banter, too:

Lagniappe:  Here they perform Dylan’s “Girl from the North Country“; one site says this aired on October 7, 1970.

Of course one YouTube video leads to another, and here’s Dylan himself doing a duet of the same song with Johnny Cash.  I’d almost forgotten about this Dylan song, but it made me realize once again what a great songwriter he was. One site says this was on the first episode of the Johnny Cash Show on May 1, 1969.

h/t: Greg Mayer

I may have posted this before, but I’m sure that even if I did, some readers may have missed it. It’s Bert Jansch (1943-2011), playing a song from his first album, the former called “Running from Home” (written by Jansch) and the album simply called “Bert Jansch.” The album was recorded on a reel-to-reel tape recorder and released in 1965. Jansch got £100 for it.  I heard the album in high school and was greatly impressed, and in fact have never forgotten it. It has at least five world-class songs, including his most famous performance, “Angie“, a song written by Davey Graham. “Angie” has been covered several times, but no version is better than Jansch’s, not even Graham’s.

This is one of my five favorites on the album, “Running from Home,” here performed along with Finn Kalvik in 1973 (the original from the album is here).  The structure is just A-A-A-A. . . there is no chorus. And it’s three-finger picking (“Travis picking”) with Jansch alternating the top strings with his thumb.

Jansch’s songs can’t really be classified as folk, rock, or pop. They are sui generis. But one thing they all are is plaintive. 

Yes. they say that age is “just a number,” but it isn’t in one sense: the bigger the number, the closer we are to taking The Big Nap. But in the birthday/anniversary sense, yes, it’s significant—though only because humans evolved with ten digits. And Eric Clapton has one of these anniversaries: he was born on March, 30, 1945, and so turns eighty today.

I’m speaking subjectively, of course, but I consider Clapton the greatest rock guitarist of all time (Rolling Stone ranks him at #2, after Jimi Hendrix, who has a credible claim to the top spot). Further, Clapton was coauthor and performer of what I see as the greatest rock song of all time: “Layla” (note that it was recorded in 1970, when Clapton was only 25).

“Layla” is a two-part song, as you’ll hear below, with the rocking seven-note intro that identifies it immediately. Later it segues into a slow part with piano, and I usually stop listening at that point. So I guess I can say that the best rock song in history is the FIRST part of “Layla.”

It was the feature song of the only album made by one of Clapton’s groups: Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs, featuring Derek and the Dominoes. Here’s that group below: (L–R: Jim Gordon, Carl Radle, Bobby Whitlock, Eric Clapton).

Another reason I love “Layla” is the backstory, which every rock aficionado knows. It’s the heartfelt cry of a man in love with a woman who’s already married. She was Patti Boyd, who was married to George Harrison when Clapton fell in love with her. (Harrison and Boyd divorced two years after the song, and Clapton married her in 1979. It wasn’t the love of a lifetime, for they divorced a decade later.

This is one song where every word tells the story of that unrequited love.  Here’s a great live version (there are several), performed at Madison Square Garden in 1999, when Clapton was 54.  He hasn’t lost a lick, and the fantastic solo begins at 2:56, when he makes the guitar scream and wail, playing out his pain.

You can stop listening at 4:05, when the slow part begins, though I know some readers will find it as good as (and inseparable from) the first part.

Yes, I know that Clapton has a bit of a dark side. He’s known for bizarre behavior, including racist and anti-vaccine rants.  But long after he’s taken the Big Nap, people will still be listening to and marveling at his music. Nobody has ever played the axe better.

Clapton had tons of good songs. Some of my favorites are “Lay Down Sally” (1977), “Promises” (a ringer from 1978), and one more I’ll show below, “Badge,” (1969), co-written with George Harrison, who plays on the recorded track by Cream.  I’ll never forget the first time I heard “Badge,” which came out when I was in college; I was mesmerized by the solo.  Here it is live from 2001, with an extended solo in the middle and then another long one (not on the recording) at the end.

And so it’s a happy birthday to Slowhand!

Feel free to give your favorite Clapton song in the comments, or take issue with my ranking “Layla” as the best rock song ever (but you have to name your choice).