The Postmodernist Renaissance Man

Thomas Young - One of our greatest polymaths

We use a phrase in the English language: «A renaissance man» - which translates to something like «excellence in many fields». Now a days I think that is hard to achieve. Knowledge was not found in such abundance in the renaissance as it is now. Theirs was still largely an oral culture - even though the Gutenberg press had revolutionized printing (or invented it rather), and the public sphere saw it’s first births. Men went to university then - and learned knowledge universal. They became polymaths, which is another way to say that they became «jacks of all trades». And that proverb truly had more positive connotations then, than it does now. Only later was the suffix of «master of none» added.

Of course it is the remarkable intellects of the time that are still remembered. I’m sure there were plenty of air headed academics back then too, who weren’t so much polymaths as dilettantes. They had, as the spanish say, «An ocean of knowledge, only an inch deep».

Today the times are different. And though most of us can’t actually retain an ocean of knowledge and skills, we at least have them readily at hand. A search of the phone and we can name any date a famous figure was born, list the recordings of the Beatles, or find the name of «that actor». The only skill required is the skill to find that information. The academics of the day aren’t so much knowledge retainers as knowledge judgers - and as such don’t quite fit the criteria of the renaissance  man/woman or polymath. First with the industrial revolution, and then the evolution of modernity, our time has become an age of specialization. Where, instead of a few learning it all, everyone learns something very specific very well.. To continue our spanish analogy: A million ponds of unfathomable depths. Remarkable.

Still we should expect today to find some remarkable minds, shouldn’t we? After all; there are many more people alive just today, than lived during the whole fourteenth and fifteenth century combined. Surely there should be some polymathic Da- Vinci's around. But I think they would be a bit harder to identify. Specialization divides us to such an extent, that an expert in one field, wouldn’t be able to understand an expert in another. And however clever, no man could come to terms with them all. But perhaps we could modify our expectations to fit our times: The postmodernist version of the renaissance man: A jack of all trades - master of some.

We all see postmodernism as something near fatalistic, like: «oh -it’s all endless, vast and relative, so one might as well not bother at all.» . Still - there is a certain pleasure of acquiring knowledge at some depths. You feel like you become part of what you study. Not a master of it per- se, but one with it. That is actually how I sometimes feel when I master a particularly difficult sociological theory, or manage to identify natural phrases in a particularly complex jazz- piece. Or even just to realize the true depth of that ocean of knowledge you're swimming in - it’s a fantastic feeling. It makes me feel like a dilettante on a constant road to polymathism. Or if you will: A jack of all trades - master of some.

Five iconic jazz songs and their stories.

Here are five jazz tunes you have, or should have, heard before. All of them are not what you might typicall expect jazz to be, but jazz is illusive that way; you've think you've got the hang of it, and then it just goes over and does something completely new.

Gary Giddins, the famous jazz critique, has thought me two things about jazz: There is no such genre as "fusion jazz". Jazz has always been a fusion between a musical idea, and that free and lively energy that jazz has come to mean. And secondly; "Jazz is for joy"
The only influence never to have left that of jazz is blues.

Rapsody in Blue
This first fusion lies within the subgenre of "third stream", which means it is heavily inspired by classical music. The "jazzyness" of the piece has since been questioned, and in a way it more resembles the later works by Stravinsky then that of other third stream compositions. It was written in 1924 by George Gershwin, by comission of Walt Whitman. When Gershwin approved the concert the Rapsody in Blue was to be premiered at was only 5 weeks away, so Gershwin immediately started to work and a train commute:

      "It was on the train, with its steely rhythms, its rattle-ty bang, that is so often so stimulating to a   composer – I frequently hear music in the very heart of the noise... And there I suddenly heard, and even saw on paper – the complete construction of the Rhapsody, from beginning to end. No new themes came to me, but I worked on the thematic material already in my mind and tried to conceive the composition as a whole. I heard it as a sort of musical kaleidoscope of America, of our vast melting pot, of our unduplicated national pep, of our blues, our metropolitan madness. By the time I reached Boston I had a definite plot of the piece, as distinguished from its actual substance."

Don't Mean a Thing (if it ain't got that swing)

This 1931 composition perfectly examplifies the jumpy rythms of the swing era, and Louis Armstrong performs it so perfectly. But the song actually preceded the swing era by three years, and was also the jazz tune to use the word swing in the title. Don't Mean a thing was Duke Ellingtons composition, but the title was Ellingtons trumpeter Bubber Mileys credo. Bubber was reportedly nice fellow, but was unreliable due to his drinking problems. In 1929 he left Ellingtons orchestra. Three years later he died from tubercholosis. 

Sing, sing, sing 

...is the proof that jazz music doesn't need to be slow and polite. Sing, sing, sing is raw, and untamed. It takes you running through the foilage in a dense rain- forest with savages on your heels! Benny Goodmans orchestra would incorporate solo's and sometimes even another song into a performance of this song, which could stretch to over 10 minutes.

Take Five  

...is the famous song which made the Dave Brubeck Quartet truly famous. The name derives from the characteristic time signature; 5/4. The song was the only one written by the bands saxophonist, Paul Desmond, on the album. Thought poorly revieved by critics, it went on to become a best seller. When Paul Desmond died in 1977, he left all future revenue from Take Five to the red cross, a gift that amounts to about 100.000$ a year to this day.

The Girl from Ipanema

...is perhaps not a song you like the very first time you hear it, but it sticks to your mind like a shot of tequila, and slowly imprints itself in your synapses. You'll find The Girl from Ipanema under the label of "Bossa Nova", but the reccording I'm showing you was made famous by Stan Getz and Joao Gilberto in 1964. The song was inspired by a real girl named Heloisa Pinheiro, which used to stroll by the bar of the composer every day to go to the beach. Below is an image of her from that period. 

If you ever wondered what the portugese lyrics are here they are in a translated form:

"The paradigm of the young Carioca: a golden teenage girl, a mixture of flower and mermaid, full of light and grace, the sight of whom is also sad, in that she carries with her, on her route to the sea, the feeling of youth that fades, of the beauty that is not ours alone — it is a gift of life in its beautiful and melancholic constant ebb and flow."