A Collective Memory Problem?

Back around 1997 or thereabouts, I ran into an essay by a gentleman named Judson Caswell called "Minstrel in the Gallery: History in the Music of Jethro Tull" that I believe he wrote for a college class back in circa 1993. At least that's when he posted it to a Jethro Tull mailing list. In it he wrote:

Still, Ian owed much to the black blues and jazz traditions. His flute playing was a stylistic derivative of Roland Kirk, a famous jazz saxophonist. Perhaps he also derived aspects of his later stage persona from Kirk as well. Kirk is described by Lipsitz in his book Time Passages. Lipsitz speaks of Kirk's unusual stage attire and behavior as subversive and unconventional. He also makes note of Kirk's aggressive sense of humor, citing his satirical rendition of hymns and his "mischievous wordplay". Lipsitz calls attention to these characteristics to identify Kirk as a performer who is deriving his power from a sense of history. He explains that Roland Kirk presents an art that can be interpreted at many levels--an art that makes reference to the past through oblique and coded messages. These messages arise as eccentricities in Roland Kirk's music and stage presence.

I knew of Roland Kirk as Tull had done a version of his "Serenade to a Cuckoo" on their first album. Although I've since learned differently, I accepted that he was the model for Ian Anderson's style of flute playing. But I didn't really know much about Kirk himself and found myself intrigued.

And so I sought out Time Passages. Not hard to find. Lipsitz got his PhD. in history at my alma mater and was, at the time the book was published, a professor just to the west at the University of Minnesota.

Lipsitz opens the book with a discussion of Kirk.

The late jazz musician Rahsaan Roland Kirk used to preface his performances with an unusual word of advice for the audience. A burly black man who often wore a stovepipe hat with a feather in it, and who frequently carried two saxophones (which he sometimes played simultaneously), Kirk would peer out at the crowd through dark sunglasses and growl, "This ain't no sideshow."

He proceeds to portray Kirk as Caswell described. His music, stage persona, and stage banter all "called attention to his role as a black musician in a society controlled by whites." Lipsitz claimed that Kirk "called attention to his identity as a historical subject, a descendant of slaves and a victim of white racism, a human being forced to disguise his pain and anger within the outward appearances of a sideshow."

Personally, I think Lipsitz is overly hyperbolic here and leaves little to no room for Kirk to dress or speak out of pure merriment or to play a song for the sheer joy of it. But I guess that's neither here nor there.

After reading the section on Kirk, I wanted to hear the man himself say those words: "This ain't no sideshow." I wanted to hear this little bit of musical history instead of it simply existing as words on a page.

Life got in the way back in the late 90s but my desire was rekindled during the Covid lockdown. Lipsitz doesn't list any notes for his comments on Kirk. John Kruth's biography, Bright Moments: The Life and Legacy of Rahsaan Roland Kirk, wasn't published until a decade after Time Passages so that wasn't a source. Wikipedia showed that some live material came out during Kirk's lifetime but 3 posthumous lives albums post-date Time Passages' publication thusly they were out. And so, as someone who collects bootlegs, I then sought out every Kirk show I could find.

Boots can be a good way to experience musical history. After all, Dylan aficionados actually heard that guy call him "Judas" long before the show was officially released in 1998.

I came away with Kirk shows from 1963, 1964, 1967, 1970, and 1972-76.

Where to start? Lipzig's phrasing gives one the impression that Kirk began all of his shows with the desired word of advice.

Some help came at the same time I was downloading the concert recordings when I stumbled upon a dissertation by a gentleman named Benjamin Tress called "The Jazz & People’s Movement: Rahsaan Roland Kirk’s Struggle to Open the American Media to Black Classical Music". The paper's first section is a brief biography of Kirk and notes, "...Kirk also gradually changed his image, moving away from the conservative style of dress he had sported in the Fifties and early Sixties...In 1967, he was back on the cover of Down Beat, though this time with thicker sunglasses, a large knit hat, and facial hair that was reminiscent of a Black Bohemian style."

Furthermore, Tress says "Kirk’s recorded statements from the late Sixties and early Seventies also indicate a trend towards greater racial awareness."

My guess was that I'd find my prized word of advice in recordings from this time period.

Thinking that it would be fun to listen to a bunch of Roland Kirk and Rahsaan Roland Kirk music, I just started with the earliest show and made my way forward. Since it was quite possible that Kirk had said "This ain't no sideshow" at some point other than the outset of a show, I listened to each of the recordings in their entirety.

Here they are:

10/24/1963    Club Montmartre, Copenhagen, Denmark
9/26/1964    Philharmonie, Jazztage 1964, Berlin, East Germany
9/27/1964    Prälaten, Jazztage 1964, Berlin, East Germany
10/2/1964    Paris, France
10/6/1964    Messuhalli, Helsinki, Finland
10/10/1964    Teatro dell'Arte al Parco, Milano, Italy
10/14/1967    Sala Kongresowa, Warsaw, Poland
10/19/1967    Prague, Czechoslovakia
2/26/1970    Stuttgart, Germany
3/3/1972    Studio NDR, Hamburg, West Germany  34min(set 2)
4/2/1972    Village Vanguard, New York City, NY
9/22/1972    “SOUL!” TV show
10/29/1972    Jazz Workshop, Boston, MA
12/31/1973    Village Vanguard, New York, NY-
4/4/1974    Village Vanguard, New York City, NY (early show)
4/4/1974    Village Vanguard, New York City, NY  (late show)
4/14/1974    Village Vanguard, New York City, NY 
6/30/1974    Glen Island Casino, New Rochelle, NY
1/3/1975    Village Vanguard, New York City, NY
7/17/1975    Blue Bird Jazzclub, Aarhus, Sweden  58min
11/14/1976    Studio 104, Maison de la Radio, Paris, France

There is a country ton of absolutely mind-blowingly fantastic music here.

Kirk was a master of circular breathing and there are times when he holds a note for a full minute, maybe more. As noted above, he played multiple saxes at once. Sometime they play in harmony, giving a rich, full melody; at others he's busting out different parts on each sax.

On one of the earlier shows, he threw in a bit of "Let It Snow", which took me by surprise. Kirk and his bands perform originals and a wide variety of covers that range from New Orleans jazz, Duke Ellington, John Coltrane, Stevie Wonder, and more. He definitely celebrates all manner of black American music and implores the audience to do the same. In later shows, they even do a bit of "Hey Jude".

Some random notes from my listening:

The February 1970 show has a song with some parts that brought "Low Spark of High Heeled Boys" by Traffic to mind. Similarly, there were a few piano solos that brought some Keith Emerson parts to mind. These moments drove home the fact that progressive rock leaned on jazz heavily at times and not always by people in the Canterbury scene.

"Fingers in the Wind" from 3 March 1972 is simply gorgeous.

At the Boston '72 show he gripes about Jethro Tull's version of "Serenade to a Cuckoo" getting a lot of radio airplay while his original does not.

Racial awareness came to fore at the September '72 show. He bemoans the paucity of black classical (i.e. - jazz) musicians on TV - Kirk helped found the Jazz & People’s Movement to address just this issue. He also says "plantation Earth" instead of "planet Earth".

"Fly Town Nose Blues" is a great song. On the 4 May 1974 shows he's got a guy named Kenny Rogers on baritone sax and he plays this wonderful struttin' melody as Kirk wails on flute. Just fantastic.

The late show from that date features the proto-rap "Clickety Clack". Influenced by The Last Poets? Gil Scott-Heron? Kirk says The Beatles came to American and took all the money while a black man went to a Rolling Stones concert and got killed. He proceeds to diss Lawrence Welk and say that Redd Foxx got screwed over.

That last show from 1976 was performed after Kirk's first stroke which left one side of his body paralyzed. That he continued playing was miraculous. Here, though, the band sounds smoother, the rough edges have been polished and the simultaneous saxes are missing. Everything seems more conventional, less eccentric, less Kirk.

So, which shows featured Kirk saying "This ain't no sideshow."?

None.

Not a single one.

I grant you, not all of these recordings are complete so it's entirely possible that he made that comments at some or all of these shows and the recorder in the audience, the radio station, or the TV station either didn't record it or left it out of the recording that has made it out into the world of bootlegs.

Having listened to all of my boots, I went to Youtube and listened to:

11/9/1973    Bologna, Palazzo dello sport (Festival del Jazz)
Jun-73    Kongsberg Jazz Festival, Kongsberg, Norway
7/18/1975    Montreux Jazz Festival
6/24/1972    Montreux Jazz Festival

1972  France

Again, no sideshow comment.

As stated above, Lipsitz provides no notes or the slightest clue where he got the notion that Kirk said "This ain't no sideshow" even once, much less at every show, as he implies. I don't think that my little round of listening to Kirk shows is iron clad, rock solid, definitive proof that Lipsitz is wrong, but I find it very suspicious.

I didn't expect to hear Kirk utter those words until shows from the late 60s so I wasn't surprised that I came up empty on the earlier ones. But I was surprised that I never heard them at all. I was also more than a little bewildered to find no mention of Kirk's sideshow comment beyond Lipsitz when I did general internet searches. Maybe I need to search the Down Beat archives or some such thing. Perhaps it was mentioned in an article and Lipsitz simply forgot to give credit.

While "This ain't no sideshow" certainly sounds like something Kirk would say and I don't doubt that Kirk said that at some point, I just don't believe Lipsitz that it was a very common, much less ubiquitous, occurrence. Either he got something wrong or pursued Herzog's ecstatic truth for his text.

Whatever the case, it was pure joy listening to all of that music by Kirk and I recommend you check him out if you haven't already done so.

The Corona Diaries Vol 43: Sauntering Through the Woods

(Go the this entry's introduction.)

(late November 2021)

I went to the woods because I wished to move perambulatively.

When you last read about me, I was at the trailhead at the Chippewa Moraine State Recreation Area. The rain, which had plagued me since the previous evening, had now become a mist. I went left at the T intersection for no particular reason and was soon descending a moderately tall hill surrounded mainly by barren trees.

Not to get overly transcendental, but it felt wonderful to be in the woods again. It amazes me how quickly my mind was able to put aside thoughts of unfinished projects at work, chores at home left undone, and other such distractions and instead focus on the beauty of the forest around me, the changing smells as I meandered deeper into the woods, and the unseen squirrels scampering on either side.

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er moraines and hummocks

The path was lined mainly with oak leaves although there were stretches here and there that had some from a maple strewn about. Sometimes I would see leaves that I couldn't identify. I soon discovered that much of the trail wound its way between the many kettle lakes in the area, that is, lakes formed as glaciers retreated. There were land bridges as well as man-made ones.

Although I could have done with more sunlight, it was simply gorgeous out there. The stillness, the quiet – just fantastic.

The Germans have a word – Waldeinsamkeit – which refers to experiencing the sublime or something spiritual when you're alone in the woods. If it can be said that I experienced it on this walk, it was when I stepped down from the path into this little swampy area on the shore of one of the lakes.

The stillness, the water, being surrounded by saplings – it was, dare I say, sublime. I stood there for a little while just taking in the natural majesty of my surroundings.

At some point it occurred to me that I was slowly sinking and had better extract myself from the mud before I couldn't do so and some poor DNR ranger had to pull my corpse from the muck.

The trail is 4.5 miles long so I had plenty of time for reflection. While sauntering along, I suddenly recalled Jason's comment about the bear attack and started being a bit more vigilant. I needn't have worried, though, as I saw no bears. No deer either. And barely any birds. The wildlife was smart enough not to go hang out in the rain, unlike the human.

I did see evidence of the local fauna, however. Beaver!

I immediately thought of the song "Release the Beavers" by Kansas.

I wondered how this tree ended up growing like this.

After about 2.5 hours I was back at the top of that hill standing before the interpretive center. I felt really good. A bit wet & chilly, a bit exhausted yet energetic and sated.

Despite feeling good, I went inside where there was heat. As I warmed up and dried off, I chatted with the staff for a bit. A new t-shirt was added to my wardrobe as well. It is an Ice Age Trail shirt with textured footprints on the chest. Some or all of the recreation area's trails are part of the Ice Age trail, 1,000+ miles of scenic trail that run along what was the edge of the last glacier to grace Wisconsin before it went into retreat.

A few last photos of the magnificent view from the hill and I was again heading north.

Not far up the road was Chetek where a hotel room awaited. After checking in, I found myself to be quite hungry so I drove over to Norm's Open Kitchen. After being seated, the locals there, who were all older folks, glanced over at the stranger briefly before returning to their meals and/or interlocutors. I looked around and noticed that the salad bar was closed for the season. (?!) My guess is that it's only available when there are tourists around. I take it that it is not particularly popular with the locals.

I ordered pot roast and mashed potatoes. The photo of my dinner turned out to be wildly out of focus so no gratuitous pictures of food. Aside from needing salt, it was tasty. The potatoes were lumpy, as is my preference, and the gravy tied everything together. A fine, hearty meal which was just what I needed after my hike. Getting into my car, I noticed my legs starting to feel sore and so it was off to the liquor store for some muscle relaxant. This came in the form of Oat Starkbier from our brewing neighbors in Minnesota, Schell.

 

 

Starkbier simply means "strong beer" in German and, if memory serves, the term was used for tax purposes in a taxation system no longer used in Germany. I think it went away shortly after reunification. The oats added a nice smoothness to the beer while the hops gave it a bracing bitterness. And the alcohol took away most of the ache.

 

A few flakes of snow were falling as the sun set and I settled in for the night. Just as I'd put my feet up and began to feel that warm alcohol glow, it then occurred to me that I had forgotten to stop at the Chetek Bakery to see if I could find a loaf of Swedish limpa bread. Limpa is a rye bread with caraway, anise, fennel, and orange and reading about it severely intrigued my tastebuds. Ooops.

 

I did a little journaling (on paper!) before deciding to listen to a concert by jazz great Roland Kirk. 

It was a show from Warsaw on 14 October 1967 and all of Kirk's trademark sounds were on display – playing up to 3 saxophones at once, blowing and talking into his flute, and virtuosic performances on his "nose flute".

 

During "Blues for C&T" Kirk began playing a melody that was familiar but I couldn't place it. I believe he's playing multiple saxophones during that song so there's that drone like a bagpipe and it threw me off. I kept thinking it was a Scottish folk song but, later, I racked my brain and figured out that it was the highly un-Scottish ragtime song "Maple Leaf Rag" by Scott Joplin.

The forecast had possible snow in it. I wouldn't have minded a little but I hoped that we would avoid a blizzard as I settled under the blankets.

********

Bonus photo. Someone in the Marquette neighborhood put a kind of macabre Deliverance display for Halloween. Where you goin' city boy?!

(Head over to this entry's supplement.)