【英日対訳】ミュージシャン達の言葉what's in their mind


英日対訳:序章Moving to Higher Ground by W. Marsalis


“Now, That's Jazz” 



Passing it on: Piano prodigy Wynton Kelly Guess receives hands-o instruction from Kwame Coleman (behind the pillar) and Eric Lewis. The great drummer Herlin Riley (second from right) is like my older brother. We both played with Danny Barker in New Orleans. I've worked with Eric Lewis and tenor saxophonist Walter Blanding (second from left) since they were teenagers. The other onlookers are proud papa Andre Guess (left) and our road manager, Raymond “Big Boss” Murphy, who for more than twenty years has made it possible for us to make gig after all across the country. 




In the early 1970s, in the wake of the civil rights movement, when James Brown, Marvin Gaye, and Stevie Wonder were the kings of Afro-American popular music, when people sported eight-inch afros and polyester leisure suits, when the scent of revolution still rode the wind, the last thing anyone hip was thinking about was handkerchief-head, Uncle Tommin', shufflin' and scratchin', grinning-for-tourists Dixiland music. Just the name alone made you hate it. So when my father said he was taking me and my brother Branford to play in a band for kids led by Danny Barker, the legendary banjo and guitar player, all we could envision was cartoon music or some type of old-fashioned obsequiousness. What was a banjo, anyway? Something they played for Frederick Douglass? Man, we're gonna miss running around on Saturday to go back to slavery days. Yay! 




Actually, Danny Barker had played banjo and guitar with everybody from Louis Armstrong and Sidney Bechet to James P. Johnson and Cab Calloway, but we didn't know who any of those people were. We were living in Kenner, Louisiana, at the time. Branford was nine. I was eight. It took my father about half an hour to drive us into New Orleans, to the empty lot where Mr. Barker's Fairview Baptist Church Brass Band was rehearsing. 



There we met an old man whom I presumed to be Mr. Barker. He was a colorful character, full of fire and stories well told. He loved New Orleans music and he loved kids. That day, he taught us the most profound lesson about playing jazz ― and about the possibility of a life of self-expression and mutual respect ― that I've ever encountered. 



He started with the drums: “The bass drum and the cymbal are the key to the whole thing. We play in four. One, two, three, four. The bass drum plays on one and three and the cymbal on two and four. It's like they answer each other. So when the bass drum goes bummp, you answer with the cymbal ― chhh.”  

1        2    3       4 

bummp, chhh, bummp, chh 

1       2        3       4 

bummp, chh, bah-bummp bummp/chhh  



“Now, on that second fourth beat, the cymbal and the bass drum agree with each other. And when you hit them two at the same time, now, that's jazz.” 



“You see,” he explained, “you gotta bounce around with your parts and you gotta skip the rhythm, just like you're dancing.” 



Then he went to the tuba. “Now, the tuba, that's the biggest instrument out here. You play big notes and leave space. Big things move slow.” He sang some tuba lines. “You are related to the bass drum. The two of y'all are down there, so you got to stay with each other. Y'all are the floor ― the foundation of the beat.” 

次はテューバの方へ向かいます。「さて、テューバだ。ここでは一番大きな楽器だ。長さの長い音符を担当して、間を取るんだ。ほら、何でも大きな物って、間を取りながら動くだろう?」テューバが吹くフレーズを歌って聞かせると、「君のパートは、バスドラムと結びついている。二人ともが下支えの処にいるから、動きをぴったりそろえること。君達は床 - つまり、拍の土台になる。」 


The tuba player started playing. Mr. Barker said, “You got to play with feeling. And when you play with feeling, on the bottom, you bounce.” So he started bouncing. Then the tuba and the drums started playing around. And he said, “You gotta mix it up and you gotta play together!” Then, after they made some low, grumbling noise, he said, “Now, that's jazz.” 



Then he turned to the trombone. “What do you have that nobody else has?” 



“The slide,” the boy said. 



“That's right. In jazz, you always hold up the thing that makes you different from other people. Be proud of being you. You play a low instrument. The lower you go, the slower the rhythms get. So I want you to play this kind of part.” And he sang the part. “Every now and then, rrrhhhhrrrraawwmmp, I want you to slide up, rip up, to a note. Tear it up.” The tuba, drums, and trombone started playing together and sounded terrible. But Mr. Barker said, “That's jazz music!” 



Then he addressed the trumpet players. He said, “Now, the trumpet is the lead instrument. You got to be strong. You play the melody.” So he taught us a melody. “Li'l Liza Jane.” We started playing. And after we'd played the melody and inflicted a few painful injuries, he said, “Play the notes with personality. Shake 'em! Play around with 'em. And play with rhythm. You've got to bounce, too.” Everything he wanted us to do he sang first. So we played the song with everyone else and it sounded like noise. Yeah, it definitely sounded terrible ,but it seemed like it might eventually be some kind of fun. 



Then he went to the clarinet player. “Now, you see all these keys y'all got. You can play fast, play high, higher than a trumpet; you can play fast skips and trill and such. That makes you different from these trumpet players. I want y'all to do those things every now and then. Play the same melody as the trumpet but up one octave.” He sang the clarinet part, too. The clarinet players squeaked and squawked. Mr. Barker listened. Then he said, “Everything you do, you got to do with personality. Scoop and bend and slide those notes.” They tried to do that.   



Mr. Barker said, “That's jazz! Now, let's hear clarinets and trumpets on the melody. But when y'all play together, you got to talk to one another. The clarinet has to fill when the trumpet leaves space, and the trumpet needs to leave that space.” So we tried to play together. The clarinet played the melody up an octave, adding some fast notes but still squeaking and squawking. Terrible. Then Mr. Barker said, “Let's put it all together, 'Li'l Liza Jane.' “ It was the most cacophonous, disjointed thing you ever heard in your life. 



“Gentlemen,” he enthusiastically concluded, “now, that's jazz.” 




If you look at the New Orleans jazz scene today, a lot of the best musicians ― Lucien Barbarin (trombone), Shannon Powell (drums), Michael White (clarinet), Gregg Stafford (cornet), Herlin Riley (trumpet at that time, drums now) ― all played with Danny Barker's Fairview Baptist Church Brass Band over the years. So he was hearing something in us way back then. And he was teaching us something, too: You are creative, whoever you are. Respect your own creativity and respect the creativity and creative space of other people. 

現在のニューオーリンズ・ジャズの音楽シーンを彩る、最高のミュージシャン達の多く - ルシアン・バーバリン(トロンボーン)、シャノン・パウエル(ドラムス)、マイケル・ホワイト(クラリネット)、グレッグ・スタッフォード(コルネット)、ハーリン・ライリー(ドラムス) - 彼らは皆、ダニー・バーカーのフェアビュー・バブテスト教会のブラスバンドで数年間過ごしています(ハーリン・ライリーは当時はトランペットを吹いていました)。ですから先生は、当時の僕達の音を耳にしているわけです。僕達は、先生から大切なことを教わりもしたのです。人は誰しも、創造力がある。自分のそれを大切にすること。同時に、他の人が創造性を発揮するのを尊重すること。 


That was the first of many life lessons I've learned from jazz. We hear many things about jazz music these days: that it's only for connoisseurs and too difficult for most people to understand; that it has no identifiable fundamentals or objectives; that the best of it was played in the past in sparsely attended smoky clubs; and finally, that jazz itself is on the undertaker's table, one step from the cemetery. 



I've spent the last thirty years doing my best to demonstrate that these observations are just downright wrong. In this book I hope to deliver the positive message of America's greatest music: how great musicians demonstrate a mutual respect and trust on the bandstand that can alter your outlook on the world and enrich every aspect of your life ― from individual creativity and personal relationships to the way you conduct business and understand what it means to be a global citizen in the modern sense. 



Most activities that require a participating audience have a way of teaching the newcomer what he or she needs to know to best enjoy what's going on. Sporting events have announcers who interpret the action. Opera has helpful program notes or subtitles. Museums provide audio guides. In jazz, even for musicians, it's generally been “play what you feel,” “keep listening and you'll hear it.... one day,” or some other bit of cryptic advice that doesn't inform you but does make you feel unhip. “If you have to ask, you'll never know.” That's partly why the aesthetic of jazz remain a mystery to most people, even though the history of its greatest practitioners, from Louis Armstrong to Thelonious Monk to Marcus Roberts, shows that all of them shaered the same artistic objectives, which I'll explain more fully as we go along: swinging, playing blues, syncopating diverse material, composing new forms, improvising interactively, exhibiting home-spun virtuosity ― all aimed at tinterpreting the sweep and scope of modern life through the language of jazz. 

「興行」と名の付くものは、大概、初心者にその楽しみ方を指南してくれるものです。スポーツアナウンサーの実況解説、オペラを見に行った時のプログラム冊子やステージに映し出される字幕、博物館や美術館の音声ガイド。ところがジャズは、これまで大概、演奏する側でさえ、「感じるままに演奏しろ」「ずっと聴いていれば、いつか分かる」あるいは、何も伝わらない代わりに「ダサい」と思わせるしかないような、意味不明の解説がチラホラとあるだけでした。「質問しなきゃ分からないようじゃ、一生理解は無理だ。」などと言われますが、これは「ジャズとは何か?」ということが、大半の人々にとっては謎であるからこそ、飛び出してくる言葉であるとも言えます。でも実際は、ルイ・アームストロングセロニアス・モンク、マーカス・ロバーツといった偉大なアーティスト達の歴史が示すように、ジャズには共通するものがあるのです。 スウィング、ブルース、シンコペーション(様々なモチーフに工夫を凝らすこと)、新しい形式の創作、演奏者同士が連係プレーをとりながら行うインプロバイゼーション、「卓越した技を控えめに」という表現の仕方、これらは、後ほどたっぷり解説してまいりますが、いずれも、ジャズという言葉で世相を語ることを、ねらいとしています。 


I'd like to demystify listening to jazz and show you how the underlying ideas of this music can change your life. I'd like to help you feel the music and understand the differences between the sounds and personalities of the great musicians: Dizzy Gillespie, Billie Holiday, Miles Davis, Ornette Coleman, Charlie Parker, Jelly Roll Morton, John Lewis, and more. I'll give you a glimpse of what goes on in the minds of musicians as we play, demonstrate the centrality of the blues, explain why jazz improvisation is different from all other forms of musical improvisation, and explore the creative tension between self-expression and self-sacrifice in jazz, a tension that is at the heart of swinging, in music and in life. 



Along the way, I want to pass on some of the lessons the music has given me through the years, lessons about art and life that I hope will help you find ― or hold on to ― the proper balance between your right to express yourself and have things your own way, your responsibility to respect others while working with them toward a common goal. That's what Danny Barker taught us to do ― to enjoy ourselves and one another. And through this music I hope you will be able to do that, too. 



Wynton Marsalis