Yesterday I came across something fascinating. Well-dressed men and women. Mahogany skin underneath argyle sweaters and mid-century styled dresses.  Not too often do I see such elegance and beauty celebrated. But here I am, seeing it in high definition. Iconic Fashion designer, Ralph Lauren, collaborated with Alumni of Morehouse and Spelman on a new collection. It reeks of classic America, an idyllic America. But this time, we are in the picture.

As my initial excitement and awe faded, I was left with a lingering feeling. This feeling for some reason I could not shake. This feeling became more and more apparent as I saw more and more of this collection. For some strange reason, this feeling would stay and build. I couldn’t verbalize or even understand this feeling. It was just an intuitive feeling that something wasn’t right. It wasn’t a new feeling because I felt it numerous times in my life. At concert halls, dinners, and celebrations, the feeling was there too. The best way to describe this feeling is, “I’m playing Blues but everyone else is playing Jazz.”

This tale is as old as our history on this side of the Atlantic. Blues and Jazz. Blues is the genre of the everyday person. A guitar, a person, and the truth are the only things necessary for some Blues. It has no wealth and very few made wealth on it. It was forged by my ancestors who sang songs of their old homeland and mixed some new ideas from this new world. Blues went on to take many incarnations but in the end, it remained the soul of the everyday black person. Blues, in many ways, is the representation of black reality and where we came from.

Jazz, on the other hand, is the music of prosperity. While early on, Jazz was one and the same as blues, things changed as black reality changed. Some of us saw prosperity, saw our efforts and work give fruit. We left the rural, oppressive south for northern cities. We built communities from Philly to LA. Even for the folks that stayed in the south, we found ways to improve our conditions and improve our status. In these changes, we sang a different song. A song more “sophisticated” than the former. With more instrumentation and more musical complexity, we have music that can properly define us. 

You would think this about how Blues became Jazz. How this music of pain became the music of prosperity. You would think Jazz represents the American Dream. The story of these two is not a story of evolution but co-existence. While Jazz was popular and in every living room, Blues was there in the backyard, hoping one day to be inside. Jazz became the music of those who were able to prosper, while Blues remained the music of those downtrodden. Jazz became the music of ideas, while Blues was the music of reality. Jazz says we are as valid as the white establishment, but Blues says we are still seen as not in the eyes of the white establishment.

So as I look at these beautiful black men and women playing their jazz so elegantly, I can’t help but hear the rattles of my guitar, the stomping of my feet, and the moans from my voice. I see them play songs of nostalgic romance and sophisticated concepts, I once again am sitting with my guitar and the truth. As the sharp, metallic rings from my guitar overwhelm my senses, I hope one day I can hear the sweet exclamations of the horns. To hear the Jazz that so many can hear. To, one day, not feel that sound of the Blues.