Mezz Mezzrow was a clarinet player from the twenties onwards and his autobiography traces his career not only as a musician, but also as a marijuana supplier to many other, often more famous and successful musicians. He was also a white man at a time when nobody had aspirations of jazz as a ‘serious’ artform, so nobody had a problem acknowledging it as black music, or race music as it was known at the time (alongside blues and gospel).
There are serious issues around the nature of writing, and how this may have worked as a diary but raises questions in its claim to be based on reflection. However, his years as a jobbing musician and pusher are enjoyable enough, and the ending should make it essential reading for anybody who is, or knows any white person obsessed with Black Music, from blues and jazz to funk and hip-hop. Steve T
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I first encountered 'Really the Blues' back in the mid fifties. There was a hard backed first-edition in James Asman's jazz record shop in St. Martin's Lane, just off Charing Cross Rd. I was tempted but it was expensive so I didn't buy. However, after a pie and a pint, I threw caution to the wind and decided I would buy it anyway. Guess what? Someone had got in before me and it was gone!
I asked the owner if he had another copy. He looked at me askance and said, pointing to an art shop opposite, "Ask him how many copies of the Mona Lisa he's got".
A few years later it came out in paperback so, in the long run I saved a few bob. I'll have to dig it out and read that final chapter again.
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