“There is great beauty in the life of Lieutenant James Reese Europe. Within the scholarship of who he was and what his music is, it becomes clear that the history surrounding him is a complex and tightly woven knot. Each strand of the cord holds a uniquely American history—a history that also births another complex knot: jazz.” Jason Moran
Eubie Blake called bandleader/arranger/composer James Reece Europe (1881-1910) “the Martin Luther King of music.” Europe came to New York from Alabama with his violin that he was taught to play by the son of Frederick Douglass. In 1910, he established The Clef Club, a society for Black Americans in the music industry. The club made history as a full symphonic band (125 pieces) with its 1912 proto-jazz concert at Carnegie Hall—12 years before George Whiteman and George Gershwin, 26 before Benny Goodman’s first Carnegie concert. They played only music by Black composers.
Recordings that followed are widely considered some of the best examples of the pre-jazz, hot ragtime style of the U.S. Reece cut his own iconoclastic path. “We have developed a kind of symphony music that, no matter what else you think, is different and distinctive, and that lends itself to the playing of the peculiar compositions of our race …” In WWI, the musician patriotically joined New York’s 15th Regiment with full knowledge that African Americans were not allowed to fight beside Whites. “If I live to come back,” he said, “I will startle the world with my music.”
Pianist and composer Jason Moran is the Kennedy Center Artistic Director for Jazz. In 2022, he was inducted into The Academy of Arts and Sciences. Moran has released 18 recordings as a solo artist. The latest, From Dancehall to the Battlefield, is devoted to James Reece Europe. It’s Moran’s energy and reverence that hold tonight together.
The horn-centric Bandwagon (plus bass, piano, drums) walks out single file, playing slow and low. Moran joins at a piano with his back to us. Tonight’s concert, a suite really, feels tribal. Ragtime tunes, often familiar, rise from the piano between cacophonous, dense segments with no discernible melody. “Ballin’ the Jack,” “Darktown Strutters’ Ball,” “You Have to Hate It to Want It to Disappear,” “Hello Central, Give Me 403”… Music ranges from funereal to buoyant; from molasses to Cab Callaway loose. Moran seems to dance on the piano seat, every now and then rising to play a slide whistle or simply face the line of brass.
We hear a multitude of horn sounds. They squawk, groan, toot, yelp, wah-wah, shimmy, wail, march, sway, and climb. There’s recognizable Charleston, Cakewalk, Black Bottom…Brass weaves, sails, mourns, and erupts. Piano is bold, assured even when quiet. Like Europe, Moran whacks his own path through the underbrush of musical history. Repeating themes are hypnotic. One by one musicians lay down their horns and circle the piano finally holding hands. A last song peters out with wordless singing. Moran enlists the entire hall to follow suit. After a phrase or two, one picks up the tune. We appear to conjure.
Black and white images appear on a large screen behind musicians. Except for those of Europe and his fellow soldiers, they’re enigmatic and not striking.
Performance Photos by Jennifer Taylor
Jason Moran and The Big Bandwagon
James Reece Europe and the Harlem Hellfighters: From the Dancehall to the Battlefield
Zankel Hall/Carnegie Hall
Part of Fall of the Weimar Republic – Dancing on the Precipice, a city wide festival
