The creative momentum and popular appeal that jazz had 50 years ago are mere memories, while Wynton Marsalis and the other fundamentalist guardians of jazz have convinced themselves that the attrition of the swing and bebop audience is tantamount to the death of jazz itself. By falling beneath the radar of the entertainment conglomerates that are sanitizing and repackaging everything from country to punk rock, jazz could survive as one of America's only spontaneous, live, and truly local forms of music. And Seattle's own Earshot Jazz Festival, by emphasizing local artists as well as better-known national acts, is one of the few major jazz festivals that is in touch with that new vitality.
Nobody can deny that the new economy has deeply wounded most forms of American music.
The same forces that have centralized production, narrowed distribution, and concentrated wealth in so many industries have done just that to the music business, and an increasing amount of music is made for and by the national corporate market. Jazz, however, has been largely frozen out of that market, and unlike most country, alternative, or even punk music, one of the only places you can find jazz these days is at unpredictable and uncensored local clubs or festivals. Last year's festival attracted a number of experimental jazz luminaries from across the country, and featured a series of concerts and lectures celebrating Duke Ellington on the hundredth anniversary of his birth. As a festival, it had some great moments, but it was also criticized in certain circles for not paying enough attention to the local jazz scene. That same line of reasoning would say that a festival like Earshot should avoid Standifer like the plague, because nobody wants to be reminded of the ugly truth that even great jazz players still need to suffer the occasional indignities of Pioneer Square gigging.