Upstream - The Political Economy of Jazz with Gerald Horne

Episode Date: June 6, 2023

The music we know today as jazz has deep and contested roots, but likely arose in New Orleans, Louisiana in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The music is based on the musical traditions of Africans, newly freed from slavery, and particularly by the tradition of the blues, an art form known for expressing the suffering and hardship of Jim Crow America.   In his book, Jazz and Justice: Racism and the Political Economy of the Music, author and scholar Dr. Gerald Horne examines the economic, social, and political forces that shaped jazz into what we know today.   In this conversation, Dr. Horne guides us through the emergence of jazz as a musical art form, the brutal realities of white supremacy and economic exploitation faced by jazz musicians, and how this music blossomed into a force that has shaped and defined so much of U.S. American culture in so many profound ways. Thank you to Elvis Phillips for the intermission music and Carolyn Raider for the cover art. Upstream's theme music was composed by Robert Raymond. This episode of Upstream was made possible with support from listeners like you. Upstream is a labor of love — we couldn't keep this project going without the generosity of our listeners and fans. Please consider chipping in a one-time or recurring donation at www.upstreampodcast.org/support If your organization wants to sponsor one of our upcoming documentaries, we have a number of sponsorship packages available. Find out more at upstreampodcast.org/sponsorship For more from Upstream, visit www.upstreampodcast.org and follow us on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, and Bluesky. You can also subscribe to us on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen to your favorite podcasts.  

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please consider going to upstreampodcast.org forward slash support to make a one-time or recurring monthly donation. Thank you. By the middle of the 20th century, the United States, in the context of the Cold War with the Soviet Union was sending jazz bands abroad as a symbol and an emblem of the United States itself, which is quite a turnabout from its origins. And in fact, you have these philosophers nowadays who say that the very nature of this music, which involves oftentimes improvisation, is an example of how a democratic society should function. You're listening to Upstream. Upstream.

Upstream. Upstream. A podcast of documentaries and conversations that invites you to unlearn everything you thought you knew about economics. I'm Robert Raymond. And I'm Della Duncan. The music we know today as jazz has deep and contested roots, but likely arose in New Orleans, Louisiana in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The music is based on the musical traditions of Africans newly freed from slavery,

and particularly by the tradition of the blues, an art form known for expressing the suffering and hardship of Jim Crow America. In his book, Jazz and Justice, Racism and the Political Economy of the Music, author and scholar Dr. Gerald Horn examines the economic, social, and political forces that shape jazz into what we know today. economic, social, and political forces that shaped jazz into what we know today. In this conversation, Dr. Horn guides us through the emergence of jazz as a musical art form, the brutal realities of white supremacy and economic exploitation faced by jazz musicians, and how this music blossomed into a force that has shaped and defined so much of U.S.

American culture in so many profound ways. Here's Della in conversation with Dr. Gerald Horn. Wonderful. Well, let's start with an introduction. Just how might you introduce yourself for the listeners? Gerald Horne, historian and author. I believe we're going to be talking about my book, Jazz and Justice, Racism and the Political Economy of the Music. Yes, we are. What inspired you to write Jazz and Justice, Racism and the Political Economy of the Music? Many factors. Number one, I come from a musical family. My younger brother,

Marvin Horn, is a well-known jazz guitarist. When I was growing up in St. Louis, Missouri, there were always musical instruments around. I grew up listening to all sorts of music, including the music we call jazz. Secondly, I'm a historian. That's my job. And I had written books on different topics, and it just seemed natural that I would write a book about music since I knew so much about it just based upon my upbringing. And I should also mention in that context that even today, literally today, I spend a lot of time listening to music. It's always on in the background. Oh, by the way, I would recommend WKCR, the Columbia University station. They play the music in the evenings, sometimes in

the morning. Jazz 24 out of Seattle. KCSM out of San Mateo, the San Francisco Bay Area. There are a number of good jazz stations in the United States of America that I, WRTI, please don't let me forget that one, in Philadelphia. So this is what led me to this book. Wonderful. Thank you. And how would you describe the origin of the word jazz? Well, it's contested. I guess you could say it arose about a century or more ago that its origins apparently have something to do with sexuality. And I should also say that if you look at the origins of the music itself, it's rather contested. As I say in the book, generally speaking, there seems to be a consensus that this music arose in the late 19th century in New Orleans, and that it stems in part from the fact that military men, they were mostly men, left their instruments around after the defeat of the Confederacy in the U.S. Civil War, 1865.

And then these instruments were taken up by the enslaved. And then New Orleans is a city with a very rich musical history, including opera in particular, and that this music became renowned in the red light district of New Orleans, known as Storyville, which then leads us back to this idea of its connection to sexuality, for example. I should also mention the African origins of this music, not only in terms of straight from the ancestral continent, but also in terms of influences from the Caribbean, particularly Havana. I should mention the fact that in New Orleans, where you had a potpourri of Africans from different cultures, obviously coming from the African slave trade, and they're mixing. And there are certain sections of the city where the Africans would gather. In fact,

sometimes they still gather today with drumming circles and things of that sort. And then that helps to drive the origins of this music, which I should say, in all fairness, was not necessarily embraced when it first arose, which is interesting because by the middle of the 20th century, the United States, in the context of the Cold War with the Soviet Union, was sending jazz bands abroad as a symbol and an emblem of the United States itself, which is quite a turnabout from its origins. And in fact, you have these philosophers nowadays who say that the very nature of this music, which involves oftentimes improvisation, is an example of how a democratic society should function. Although I should add very quickly that jazz is not all improvisation.

There are many scores, which is one of the reasons why in Lincoln Center, New York, you can have a Lincoln Center jazz orchestra that plays the music historically based upon scores. In any case, jazz has taken a very circuitous route through U.S. culture. And I should also add global culture, because one of the themes of my book is how the music spreads. It spreads in no small measure because Black American musicians, oftentimes, they travel abroad in Shanghai, China. In the 1920s and the 1930s, you have Black American musicians. I've mentioned Cuba. You also have the music then being taken up by musicians from other countries. Some of your audience may be familiar with the Argentine saxophonist Gato Barbieri, for example. And then you have all of

the Black American musicians who've sought exile. Dexter Gordon of Los Angeles, for example, who spent a considerable time in Copenhagen. It's legendary how many jazz musicians have flocked to France, particularly Paris, including the leading innovator Miles Davis, with roots in East St. Louis, Illinois, right across the river from my hometown of St. Louis. So this music has been protean. It has spread globally. It has spread domestically. You have high school jazz bands, for example, throughout the United States of America. You have clubs, particularly in New York City, but not only in New Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra in San Francisco, you have an equivalent, that is to say, a cultural institution which regularly gives concerts of various sorts with musicians fairly compensated, although I'm sure they would want more if it were offered. Thank you.

And I love that idea of how jazz could demonstrate an ideal society. When you shared that, a few things came to mind. Yes, the improvisation and kind of emergence aspect of it, but also the collective intelligence, the kind of thing that arises when everyone is in flow, that kind of dynamic that doesn't exist in any one of the parts, but the harmony and the beauty of all of the instruments together, as well as sharing. I'm thinking about, in my mind's eye, imagining a jazz band playing the sharing of the drum solo, and then we go to the bass, and then maybe the singer comes in. So the sharing and celebrating of the different parts of each instrument, each artist. Is there anything more you'd say by way

of how jazz can be an idealist society? What you just said makes me want to ask you a question. Are you a musician or a musical philosopher? That was a very intelligent summary, I must say. Thank you. I play the drums. Oh, I see. Yeah, that was too intelligent just to have come from nowhere. Can you think of any other ways that jazz might be this model of an ideal society? Anything else come to your mind? Well, I think you summed it up rather nicely. And what's tragic about the music, particularly how you've described it, and the phrase I use in the book is like a lotus growing in the mud. That is to say, you have this beautiful music based upon beautiful concepts of collectivity and sharing and

improvisation, as you put it, but then oftentimes executed under the most difficult conditions that one could imagine. For example, just a moment or two ago, I mentioned clubs where the music is oftentimes played, but I hope that I did not give the impression that that was an ideal setting. It was not so long ago that these clubs were smoke-filled. I take it that that's no longer the case, at least in the United States, because it created difficult conditions in terms of health for the musicians who were stuck there. Let's not even talk about the wages of these musicians. That's one of the reasons why you had so many Black American musicians going into exile, because in many

European societies, the music is treated with more respect. And then oftentimes there are strong left-wing and social democratic parties that push for subsidies to cultural institutions and to artists, which is something that is not prevalent to the same extent, at least in this country. And then there is the question of unions. As I point out in the book, for the longest period, you had segregated unions in the United States of America. You had oftentimes unions comprised of Black musicians and then other unions with non-Black musicians, with the former oftentimes treated shabbily. And actually, one of the tragedies, many tragedies, is that as Jim Crow begins to decompose in the 1960s, that is to say U.S. apartheid, oftentimes the records of these

segregated union locals are tossed out or incinerated, which makes it difficult to recreate the history. But fortunately, that's not the case universally. I'm happy to report that there are a number of archives that contain the papers and records of jazz musicians. Let me just mention a few in case there are budding researchers and writers in your audience. Dave Brubeck, who in the 1950s was on the cover of Time magazine, you might have heard his tune, Take Five. his papers were at the university of the Pacific in Stockton, California. Earl Garner, who had a chart-topping hit with Misty. I was just listening to Misty the other day. His papers are at the University of Pittsburgh. At the Library of Congress, you have the papers of Charles Mingus,

the Falstaffian bassist, composer, pianist, and bandleader. A number of books have been written about Charles Mingus. You have the papers of Max Roach. As a matter of fact, whenever I do one of these interviews about music, I've mentioned Max Roach. Actually, he was a drummer. Thank you. With roots in the Great Dismal Swamp in the Carolinas, which was an area of the U.S. South where there were maroon communities, that is to say Africans who had escaped the jurisdiction of the enslavers during the time of slavery. He also had roots in Barbados, a Caribbean island with a stormy history. His papers are at the Library of Congress.

And he was very politicized, extremely politicized. And someone needs to dig into that archive and pin a story about his life and his legacy. So I could go on in this vein, that is to say, with regard to the raw material that allows one to construct a history of this music. And then I should mention all of the oral histories, which I draw upon heavily, which many of which you can find online. So you can sit in your pajamas in your bedroom and do research in all of these oral histories that are online.

So the writing of the history of this music is a thriving enterprise, and given the extant archives and records, that should be the case for some time to come. Yes. And you talked about how in the history, there is this thread of white supremacy and racism that has been so intertwined with the history of jazz. You mentioned the segregation of unions and also unfair wages or ways that the wages were kept from black musicians. You also wrote about how folks had multiple jobs and also the physical ailments that would come from the amount of music that they had to play. There was even one story in Texas that you told about because so many folks in the audience had weapons, they had guns that the artists had to play until they said it was done. They had guns that the artists had to play until they said it was done. So this kind of coercion and difficulty that they experienced. What is that to the extent that movements, not only movements

amongst musicians, but movements in the larger society and movements globally arise, speaking of anti-racist movements, progressive movements, et cetera, to that extent, you see a retreat of white supremacy. You see a retreat of racism. That's the story of how we got to this point in 2023. It was not necessarily because of the benevolence of the 1% or because the rulers of the society suddenly saw the light and decided there below that compelled change. And some of the stories about these musicians and how they suffered during the battle days are quite tragic. I remember seeing an interview with the great trumpeter, Freddie Hubbard, just a few months ago after the book was published. And he was talking about the lifespan of trumpeters. And I found it sort of hard to believe, although I'll repeat it here. He says that the lifespan of professional trumpeters is abbreviated. He, of course, was a professional trumpeter. He seemed to suggest that it had

something to do with the difficulty in playing the instrument. I find that difficult to believe, but I'm not a trumpeter. So he was. So I'll take his word for it. And then speaking of drummers, the difficulty of drummers, as a matter of fact, there are some who suggest that they can tell a drummer by the way they walk. I should let you speak to that since you're the expert on that. I mean, it's a very physical instrument. I mean, they all are. And I guess you have different things, whether you're standing on your feet all day or you're sitting all day.

There's different ailments there. But certainly the physicality of the whole body that comes from, you know, playing the bass drum and the crash cymbals and all the things. But please share what you heard about drummers. Yeah. And so what magnifies the problem, of course, is that oftentimes these musicians don't have adequate health care, particularly in a country like the United States of America. Now, of course, if they were in Canada, just across the border, they have a single payer healthcare system that seeks to cover the entire population, but we do not have such a benefit in the United States of America. And then there's arthritis that comes, for example, with regard to those who tickle the ivory, as they say. And as they grow older, you've been doing that for decades,

you oftentimes develop arthritis in one's fingers, which then complicates one's ability to develop the kind of sound that you desire. And then there are those who say that it's like being a chess player. You oftentimes hear a comment about chess players that to be excellent at chess, it's difficult to be good at anything else because it's a very jealous mistress. It demands so much of your time. And with regard to musicians, sometimes you hear stories about these musicians practicing 15 or 16 hours a day. So if you're practicing 15 or 16 hours a day, how do you develop human relationships? How do you develop skills and other fields? How do you learn how to cook, for example?

for example. And then this is 15, 16 hours a day in the context of racism, white supremacy, difficult working conditions, inadequate healthcare, poor wages. I hope I'm not painting a dismal picture for any in your audience who might want to pursue this particular profession, but this is the way it has been in the United States of America, at least up until this point. You're listening to an Upstream Conversation with Dr. Gerald Horn, author of Jazz and Justice, Racism and the Political Economy of the Music. We'll be right back. Thank you. piano plays softly That was Upstream's theme music, as performed by jazz guitarist and Della's cousin, Elvis Phillips. Now back to our conversation with Dr. Gerald Horn, author of Jazz and Justice, Racism and the Political Economy of the Music. And then there too is the story that you tell about people copying people's music or taking credit for people's music.

people copying people's music or taking credit for people's music. And so can you tell us the story about bebop and its significance in the story of jazz? Well, this is a music that is generally conceded that it develops in New York City in the 1940s. It develops for a number of different reasons. One, it develops in the context of the authorities objecting to interracial coupling between Black men and Euro-American women in the context of live music. And that drives this idea that this music should be performed concert style with people in chairs or in seats, but not dancing, which raises too many red flags. your question, is that these musicians, many of whom were Black Americans, they felt that they were being copied and that their styles and their scores were being purloined. And so they wanted to develop a music that was difficult to copy. And so they began, especially the horn players, they began playing very rapidly in an improvisational style with syncopation, with percussion, etc. And hence, you have the development of what is called bebop, which is difficult to copy,

but I must say, it's an acquired taste, apparently. I mean, I love the music, but you have others who have not developed that particular affection. And this whole transition from dancing music to concert music is an important development. I should also mention in terms of important developments, and I would be remiss even in this brief interview if I neglect at this point, which is that the clubs oftentimes were dominated by organized crime. And organized crime makes for difficult working conditions, difficulty in getting adequate wages, et cetera. In fact, there's a story I tell in the book about how certain drummers in particular develop certain kinds of percussive styles from hearing bullets

in the background that they then began to imitate. And then I tell a story in the 1920s in St. Louis, which is a center of the music, whereby you have two competing trends with regard to who's going to control the clubs. On the one hand, you have Ku Klux Klan type elements, that is to say, ultra white supremacists. On the other hand, you have organized crime figures who are certainly no angels, certainly no Boy Scouts, but they're willing to employ these Black musicians under very oppressive conditions. And with the showdown, organized crime prevails, and so therefore black musicians win the dubious honor of being exploited as opposed to being

excluded. I guess being exploited is better than being excluded. I'll leave that to the philosophers amongst us. And I should really return to this question of New Orleans because this is something that could occupy other scholars and researchers. I gave that whole story, that whole narrative about how the music develops in New Orleans, which I will not repeat here. But part of that story is dependent upon this point, which is that at Tulane University in New Orleans, early on, you had librarians and archivists who began to take down oral histories of musicians, some of whom were born in the 1870s. And so when you begin to try to track the history of the music, a person like myself, you turn to these oral histories because these people were present at the creation. However, my own estimation is that if you had had similar oral historians, archivists, librarians in Memphis, Tennessee, also along the Mississippi River, a la New Orleans, and St. Louis, for example, also along the Mississippi River,

we might have had a different story. But unfortunately, at Washington University and St. Louis, the St. Louis University, their oral historians and librarians and archivists were asleep at the switch. And so therefore, we're all dependent upon the New Orleans story. And I question the New Orleans story as well, because as you begin to survey the history of the music, you see the music developing in California, for example, whose Black population does not begin to increase until post-World War II, or actually, I should say post-1940, 1941, although you have the music developing there decades before that, a la New Orleans. So the origins of this music, to return to that initial question that

you raise, is somewhat complicated and contested. Yes, I remember that. And another point of history that is complex, you already mentioned the 1960s, but one analyst in your book said that the 1960s was one of the worst periods for jazz. So can you tell us why? What happened then for jazz? Let me say, first of all, that I'm not necessarily against copying. I mean, I'm against plagiarism, but we all sit on the shoulders of those who came before. movies and books to suggest that this Mississippi man who winds up in Memphis was a person who, shall we say, learned from being surrounded by Black musicians. And then there's the British invasion with Jerry and the Pacemakers and the Beatles and Eric Clapton and all the rest. and Eric Clapton and all the rest. And fortunately for them, I'll give them credit,

particularly the Rolling Stones and the Beatles. They freely confess and admit that they learned from blues musicians and jazz musicians. And so what happens is that these jazz musicians get shunted aside with the explosion of rock and roll, the explosion of various kinds of pop music. And given the fact that these musicians felt compelled, as said a moment or two ago, to move away from dance music to concert music, they basically handed on a silver platter, dance music, to these other popular musicians, which then causes

their particular branch of art to wither to a degree. But I don't want to overstate the case because certainly at the same time that these musicians were encountering difficulties in the United States, many of them were flourishing in Tokyo, for example. For the longest time, Tokyo had more jazz clubs than New York City, for example. Actually, my younger brother plays in Tokyo all the time and does sufficiently well that a few months there can hold him in good stead in North America for months on end. I dare say that if he spoke Japanese, he'd probably want to live there, but living in a country where you don't speak the language is more than a notion. So this music has had a rather difficult course, So this music has had a rather difficult course, and not to mention the fact that the musicians themselves have had very difficult battles. And fortunately, the musicians themselves, fortunately for persons like myself and for others who are interested, they penned memoirs, they penned autobiographies, they've attracted others to write their stories.

So this has created a small library. As a matter of fact, the Institute of Jazz Studies at Rutgers University is a welcome stop for any who are interested in this music. And there are other equivalents of the Institute of Jazz Studies at Rutgers University as well. And this is Rutgers University in Newark as opposed to New Brunswick. Yeah, my brother plays baseball in Mexico. So I was thinking of the parallels there of playing jazz abroad, playing baseball abroad. Tell us some more about the stories of when jazz has been connected with movements for revolution and liberation. I know one of your chapters is called Song for Che.

Yeah. So tell us more about the history of jazz and how it's influenced and also been influenced by movements for liberation. Well, Song for Che, aficionados might know, was penned, at least it was popularized, I would imagine, penned by Charlie Hayden. A bassist, and he tells the story about seeking to play that in fascist Portugal. Portugal, as you know, moves away from fascism by 1974. But before 1974, for a good deal of the 20th century, it was a fascist regime. And his music was inspirational to anti-fascists in Portugal. And his music was inspirational to anti-fascists in Portugal.

And then, of course, we cannot talk about this particular topic without talking about people like John Coltrane, the great saxophonist. His tune, Alabama, which memorializes the four black girls killed in a bombing at a Birmingham church in 1963. in a bombing at a Birmingham church in 1963. As you may know, the professor and activist Angela Davis was born in Birmingham, knew the girls, inspired by John Coltrane in Alabama. I mentioned Max Roach. He did so many fundraisers for anti-Jim Crow movements, also penned a number of albums and tunes in honor of the anti-Jim Crow movement. When I was living in New York and was much younger, I used to organize jazz concerts

to raise money for the anti-apartheid movement. And this not only featured South African musicians, of course, the music has spread to South Africa as well, like Hugh Masekela, Abdullah Ibrahim, who is a pianist, also known as Dalla Brand, his partner, Bea Benjamin, who is a jazz singer, vocalist, etc. We raised thousands and thousands and tens of thousands of dollars. And the labor of these musicians was donated. I should also mention in this context, musicians like Reggie Workman, who's still in the land of the living. Reggie must be in his late 80s now.

Played on scores of albums. He used to donate his labor. Noel Poynter, a violinist, he's no longer with us. He donated his labor for the anti-apartheid cause. So these musicians, who oftentimes are all too familiar with oppression, persecution, oppression, persecution, difficult working conditions, repressed wages, were more than willing to contribute their art and contribute their creativity and their labor to causes much larger than themselves. And I shudder to think where our movements would be without that kind of contribution. Absolutely. So what about jazz today?

What are you noticing has maybe changed or shifted for the better? And what is still happening that maybe breaks your heart or that worries you about jazz today in the political economy? One of the more hopeful developments is the popularity of women musicians. Esperanza Spaulding, for example. Regina Carter, the violinist, for example, because women have had very difficult conditions within the music in this male-dominated art form. Difficulty in getting gigs or jobs because of male supremacy, for example, sexual harassment, and worse. So once again, as you have movements that develop, like the Me Too movement, for example, it leads to progress on many different fronts, including the front with regard to music.

on many different fronts, including the front with regard to music. I should also mention that the Musicians Union still could withstand some improvement. Now, they're no longer Jim Crow locals, but that does not mean that the American Federation of Musicians is doing all that it could, all that it can, with regard to improving the wages and working conditions of musicians. And then I think the internet has had an impact. I mentioned all these outlets. I mean, I listened to all these jazz stations through the internet. And I'll mention them again, KCSM and San Mateo, Jazz 88 out of Seattle. There's a jazz station in San Diego that I listen to, Philadelphia. So that then I think has important knock-on effects. But with streaming, I'm not sure if that's been beneficial to the musicians. It's certainly been beneficial to some who bought stock in Spotify, for example. But whether or not it's been equally or similarly beneficial to musicians or a vision for a better economy. What though, in terms of a better economy for jazz, what would that look like? Meaning what policies or different actions would support jazz as a community, as a music? And also what can individuals listening do to support jazz and jazz musicians?

Well, they can buy the music. That's one thing. They can visit clubs. That's another thing. But one of the threads of this conversation has been how, for example, the anti-Jim Crow movement leads to improvements all along the waterfront, how the Me Too movement improves conditions for women across the board. And so likewise, I think that to the extent that we can develop progressive movements, we can develop better working conditions, better wages, and probably better art. Because I think if artists are less harried and harried and less oppressed and persecuted, they can probably be more creative and probably can contribute more beautiful sounds for the rest of us. We probably need changes, intellectual property law that allows Spotify and these other streamers to benefit so handsomely

from the art of these musicians who oftentimes, believe it or not, just get pennies when their music is streamed. Because that's another thing. It's easier now with the internet to deprive musicians of the work that they've created. It makes it easier not only to plagiarize, but it makes it easier to steal music and to take an artist's work and creativity and profit from it without the artist profiting simultaneously. from it without the artist profiting simultaneously. And this, I'm afraid to say, is nothing new. I tell the story from the 1930s and the great composer, band leader, pianist, Duke Ellington, and how he had a barracuda-like manager who put his name on compositions actually written by Ellington, name on compositions actually written by Ellington, which means that his estate, that is to say the thief's estate, still profits in 2023 from music created by the late Duke Ellington,

who of course left many heirs, not only musical heirs, but blood heirs, ancestral heirs. So this is a very sad story. And obviously, to the extent we can develop a movement, we can then put into office elected officials, particularly in the U.S. Congress, who can then pass laws and make it easier to organize unions, make it easier for musicians to benefit from their labor and from their creativity. Thank you. And for the last question, would you leave us with one jazz artist and one song that has touched you during the course of your work? So maybe the story of one artist and maybe the story or the lyrics of one song just to leave us with?

Well, I guess I would say John Coltrane because he is a name that's known. So I don't have to provide that much of a backstory. I would imagine to our audience, a saxophonist with roots in the Carolinas, but comes to prominence in Philadelphia. He's one of those artists who died prematurely. He was one of those artists who practiced incessantly, 14, 15, 16 hours a day.

And with regard to his tunes, I would say My Favorite Things, because, of course, that's a U.S. standard. It It illustrates what these musicians can do when they improvise and add their creativity to a standard. They actually are able to create something new. And there's a metaphor there as well. When you're taking something old and breathing new life into it and creating something altogether new. And so my favorite things, which you can hear on many of these aforementioned jazz stations that I mentioned on a regular basis, is a tune that I would point the audience to.

Beautiful. And I love that theme of we can be inspired by something, but not copy it. Right. And I think of that quote that where we're given a branch, make a bud, where we're given a bud, make a flower, where we're given a flower, make a fruit. Oh, right on. You're really a philosopher. I'm impressed. Thank you. And thank you for the stories today and for the book that really does span places all over the world, all over the U.S., and also so deep into so many rich stories and histories. So thank you for your work and thank you for your time today. Thank you for inviting me. You've been listening to an Upstream Conversation with Dr. Gerald Horn,

author of Jazz Injustice, Racism and the Political Economy of the Music. Make sure to check out our episode from earlier this year with Dr. Horn on his book, The Counter-Revolution of 1776, Slave Resistance and the Origins of the United States of America. Thank you to Elvis Phillips for the intermission music and to Carolyn Rader for the cover art. Upstream theme music was composed by me, Robbie. Support for this episode was provided by the Resist Foundation and listeners like you. Upstream is a labor of love. We couldn't keep this project going without the generosity of our listeners like you. Upstream is a labor of love. We couldn't keep this project going without

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