Bebop lives! cries the newest generation of jazz players. During the 1980s, musicians like Wynton Marsalis revived public interest in bebop, the speedy, angular music that first bubbled up out of Harlem in the early 1940s, changing the face of jazz. That Marsalis and others thought of themselves as celebrating and preserving a noble tradition is, in one sense, inevitable. After the excesses of experimental or "free" jazz in the 1960s and the electronic jazz-rock "fusion" of the
70s, it is hardly surprising that people should hearken back to a time when jazz was "purer," perhaps even at the apex of its development. But the recent enthusiasm for bebop is also ironic in light of the musics initial public reception.
In its infancy, during the first two decades of the 20th century, jazz was played by small groups of musicians improvising variations on blues tunes and popular songs. Most of the musicians were unable to read music, and their improvisations were fairly rudimentary. Nevertheless, jazz attained international recognition in the 1920s. Two of the people most responsible for its rise in popularity were Louis Armstrong, the first great jazz soloist, and Fletcher Henderson, leader of the first great jazz band. Armstrong, with his buoyant personality and virtuosic technical skills, greatly expanded the creative range and importance of the soloist in jazz. Henderson, a pianist with extensive training in music theory, foresaw the orchestral possibilities of jazz played by a larger band. He wrote out arrangements of songs for his band members that preserved the spirit of jazz, while at the same time giving soloists a more structured musical background upon which to shape their solo improvisations. In the 1930s, jazz moved further into the mainstream with the advent of the Swing Era. Big bands in the Henderson mold, led by musicians like Benny Goodman, Count Basie and Duke Ellington, achieved unprecedented popularity with jazz-oriented "swing" music that was eminently danceable.
Against this musical backdrop, bebop arrived on the scene. Like other modernist movements in art and literature, bebop music represented a departure from tradition in both form and content, and was met with initial hostility. Bebop tempos were unusually fast, with the soloist often playing at double time to the backing musicians. The rhythms were tricky and complex, the melodies intricate and frequently dissonant, involving chord changes and notes not previously heard in jazz.
Before bebop, jazz players had improvised on popular songs such as those produced by Tin-Pan Alley, but bebop tunes were often originals with which jazz audiences were unfamiliar.
Played mainly by small combos rather than big bands, bebop was not danceable; it demanded intellectual concentration. Soon, jazz began to lose its hold on the popular audience, which found the new music disconcerting. Compounding public alienation was the fact that bebop seemed to have arrived on the scene in a completely mature state of development, without that early phase of experimentation that typifies so many movements in the course of Western music. This was as much the result of an accident of history as anything else. The early development of bebop occurred during a three-year ban on recording in this country made necessary by the petrol and vinyl shortages of World War II. By the time the ban was lifted, and the first bebop records were made, the new music seemed to have sprung fully-formed like Athena from the forehead of Zeus. And though a small core of enthusiasts would continue to worship bebop pioneers like Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie, many bebop musicians were never able to gain acceptance with any audience and went on to lead lives of obscurity and deprivation.
The author suggests that bebop seemed to represent a radical departure from earlier jazz in that it:
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