At some point in 1938, while employed by the Library of Congress Archive of American Folk Song to record and preserve regional American music being put at risk by popular music like jazz, music archivist Alan Lomax found himself at a Washington, DC club by the name of the Jungle Inn, one of the few venues in the area at time that welcomed both black and white patrons. Legendary jazz pianist, composer and band leader Jelly Roll Morton was on stage. He was, by all accounts, on the down side of his career, which had begun in New Orleans some 23 years earlier, when his song Jelly Roll Blues became the world’s first published jazz composition. (By the late ’30s, traditional jazz was moving out of favor, as audiences were gravitating toward swing.)
So there Lomax was, the man charged with protecting and preserving American folk music against the rising tide of jazz, listening to the hard-drinking Morton play the piano and spin yarns about the Storyville brothels of New Orleans where the genre was born at the turn of the century. Thankfully, Lomax knew good oral history when he heard it, and, instead of turning away in disgust, like one might expect a folk purist to do, he approached Morton, asking the self-proclaimed “inventor of jazz” and accomplished raconteur if he’d sit down for an interview.
By the time the two men were done talking, nine hours had elapsed, and much whiskey had been consumed. And the results were amazing… Among other things, Lomax captured a 30-minute version of The Murder Ballad, an epic jazz tale of sex and murder in New Orleans at the turn of the century… Here it is in its entirety:
I wouldn’t say it’s one of my favorite Jelly Roll Morton songs, as I tend to prefer material that doesn’t include lyrics like, “I’ll cut your fucking throat and drink your blood like wine.” But I appreciate it for what it is… an accurate representation of the kind of early jazz story telling that was, for obvious reasons, never committed to vinyl.
If you’re interested, you can find all of the lyrics on the site of Louis Maistros. Here, though, is a sample.
…She said, I’m coming out, I’d like to see someone stop me
She said, I’m coming out, I’d like to see a bitch like you stop me
This ain’t no slavery time and I’m sure that I’m freeYes, come on, bitch, your day has come
Yes, come on, bitch, your day has come
You fucked my man but you will never fuck another oneShe pulled out a pistol and shot her right in her eyes
She pulled out a pistol and shot her right in her eyes
She said, open your legs, you dirty bitch, I’m gonna shoot you between your thighs…
[I’m going to keep this bookmarked so that I can refer to it the next time I feel an itch to launch into a tirade about how gangster rap is ruining America.]
If you’d like to hear more, the entire Alan Lomax session with Morton was released a few years ago on a seven CD box set titled Jelly Roll Morton: Complete Library of Congress Recordings
11 Comments
The Jungle Inn was apparently on U Street in DC. The following comes from the site of a place called Black Fox Lounge.
I believe “jelly roll” was slang for a certain part of female anatomy.
And he looks like such a nice young man in the photo.
From a British website for kids.
Surprisingly, they don’t link to the Murder Ballad.
Read more:
http://kidsmusiccorner.co.uk/composers/jazz/jelly-roll-morton/
The tie to gangster rap goes even deeper. According to this, he was a pimp with a diamond in his tooth.
From RedHotJazz.com:
But more than all these things, he was a real character whose spirit shines brightly through history, like his diamond studded smile. As a teenager Jelly Roll Morton worked in the whorehouses of Storyville as a piano player. From 1904 to 1917 Jelly Roll rambled around the South. He worked as a gambler, pool shark, pimp, vaudeville comedian and as a pianist. He was an important transitional figure between ragtime and jazz piano styles. He played on the West Coast from 1917 to 1922 and then moved to Chicago and where he hit his stride. Morton’s 1923 and 1924 recordings of piano solos for the Gennett label were very popular and influential. He formed the band the Red Hot Peppers and made a series of classic records for Victor. The recordings he made in Chicago featured some of the best New Orleans sidemen like Kid Ory, Barney Bigard, Johnny Dodds, Johnny St. Cyr and Baby Dodds. Morton relocated to New York in 1928 and continued to record for Victor until 1930. His New York version of The Red Hot Peppers featured sidemen like Bubber Miley, Pops Foster and Zutty Singleton. Like so many of the Hot Jazz musicians, the Depression was hard on Jelly Roll. Hot Jazz was out of style. The public preferred the smoother sounds of the big bands. He fell upon hard times after 1930 and even lost the diamond he had in his front tooth, but ended up playing piano in a dive bar in Washington D.C. In 1938 Alan Lomax recorded him in for series of interviews about early Jazz for the Library of Congress, but it wasn’t until a decade later that these interviews were released to the public. Jelly Roll died just before the Dixieland revival rescued so many of his peers from musical obscurity. He blamed his declining health on a voodoo spell.
I had no idea about the voodoo.
Read more:
http://www.socialaffairsunit.org.uk/blog/archives/000550.php
A photo of Jelly Roll Morton likely taken at the Jungle Inn at around 1938.
http://www.doctorjazz.co.uk/jelly9.html
Going down to Memphis to get my ham bone boiled.
Zutty.
Giving tongue to fierce sexual rawness.
Indeed, the Library of Congress Recordings are incredible, as are his Victor Records sides from 1926-’27. The Library recordings from ’38 took place over the course of a few weeks and were compiled into the roughly eight hour set. And though some whiskey was imbibed during the sessions (brought by Lomax), Morton was not a hard drinker. In fact, he rarely if ever drank (and never took drugs by any account I’ve heard or read). He did gamble though, often to great losses.
Regarding drink though, there’s a story of some of the guys playing on one of his sessions passing the bottle around. They convinced Jelly to take a sniff, but this ended up delaying the session, as Jelly had to open up an window and spend a half hour reviving himself after just a couple shots, much to the amusement of his musician friends.
All accounts of Jelly from the musicians who played with him stated that he was a swell guy, and an excellent band leader. And of course a singular talent at the piano. The biography “Jelly’s Blues” is a great read if you want to learn more about this musical genius.