Before I get to Friday jazz, I'd like to take a little time to tell you about an issue that I find both important and inspiring. Appropriately enough for The Unmutual Political Blog, I'm going to start with science-fiction. C.S. Friedman. I find her books to be generally quite good, and frequently excellent. My favorite? This Alien Shore. The premise is that, in the early days of faster-than-light travel, the effects are deleterious to humanity, and cause mutations. The humans who arrive on the planet, Guerra, have mutations that affect their minds rather than their bodies. They have what would be considered disorders of various kinds, by modern American standards. However, they are also often savants. One of the main characters is a Guerran who is a mathematical genius, but also clearly would be considered autistic by modern American definitions. Guerrans just don't think in those terms. Instead, their culture has developed an elaborate set of facial markings that inform each other about their natures so that everyone knows how to deal with everyone else. Masada, the "autistic" character? His markings would make it clear to other Guerrans why he reacts to them the way he does, and the most comfortable way to treat him. Consequently, his genius goes to the benefit of Guerran society.
So now let's bring this around to jazz. Some great jazz musicians are... less than inspiring as people. Charles Mingus. Douchebag. Great musician, but douchebag. Miles Davis. Probably not quite as much of a douchebag, but still a douchebag, and arguably the greatest musical genius of the 20th Century. Some, though, have inspiring stories. There's always the tale of Django Reinhardt having two fingers on his fretting hand paralyzed in a caravan fire (he was a Manouche gypsy), and then using that "disability" as a motivator to develop the concept of lead guitar in a band because he couldn't play chords anymore for proper rhythm work. But, Django was a Belgian, who played primarily in France, and I'm doing a jingoistic series, so no Django. (Get it?)
Instead, let's take a moment to appreciate Rahsaan Roland Kirk. Blind guy. Hard to make your way as a blind man, a blind black man in mid-20th Century America. Roland (he added the name, "Rahsaan," later in life) learned to play the horns. Every horn. Every fucking horn. Then, he got bored, so he started messing around with them, and inventing new horns because music was too fucking easy for him. Still too easy. He wondered, "can I play two horns at once?" Yes. "Fuck it. Three?" Yeah, that too. Three plus a nose flute? Yes.
Have you ever seen one of those one-man-band rigs? You know how they sound like a stupid joke? Roland Kirk just sounded like a band. And he could play any style. Anything he wanted. With soul.
Blind guy, messing around, because he needed to challenge himself. What else was he going to do? Drive a race-car? That would be pretty fucking stupid, wouldn't it? That would be like Masada, the "autistic" character from C.S. Friedman's This Alien Shore, trying to become a stage actor. But more dangerous for all involved.
Of course, not everyone diagnosed "on the spectrum," as that horrible phrase goes, is also a savant, and not every blind person is a musical genius on Roland Kirk's level. However, the concept of the Guerran society is that understanding who people are and what they can and cannot do, and treating people appropriately rather than expecting them to be something they are not, leads to better outcomes. It was an interesting book. And personally, I'd rather listen to Rahsaan play than get in a car with him behind the wheel.
Now, I warned you I was going somewhere. That somewhere is little Donny Trump. Developmentally disabled people, in the terminology that has come to be used in certain circles, present something of a challenge. There are jobs and roles in society that they can perform, and jobs that are not appropriate for them. President of the United States, for example, is not a job for a developmentally disabled person. Such a person might, oh, I don't know, shut down the government over some stupid, fucking wall, which will never be built, which Mexico was theoretically supposed to fund, and so on, and so forth. Right before Christmas.
Had little Donny been born on Guerra, what might have happened? Who can say? Perhaps he has hidden artistic talents that have never been cultivated. Perhaps stagecraft really would have called, since that seems to be his natural inclination anyway. Then again, not everyone on Guerra was necessarily a Masada-level savant anyway, if I recall correctly (admission: it has been a while since I read it). Regardless, my point is that we can take some lessons, both from C.S. Friedman and the history of jazz, and rethink the role of whatever gets called "disabilities." The problem isn't necessarily whatever we label, "disabilities," but how society responds, or fails to respond to them. Kio Masada-- disabled? I think not. Roland Kirk? His artistic vision and virtuosity surpassed anything you or I can see. What should happen with developmentally disabled people, like little Donny Trump? I really can't say, other than this-- keep him away from the levers of power. I think the Guerrans would agree. There must be better, and more constructive roles they can play, which would be healthier for all involved. Make a donation to some real charity (i.e., not the Trump Foundation), which helps challenged people like Donny lead productive lives. Maybe it isn't just a sci-fi thing.
Wow, that's a long wind-up. If you made it through that, you deserve some kick-ass jazz. Here's Roland Kirk, "Serenade To A Cuckoo," from I Talk With The Spirits.