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Guest column

Time-traveling to a syncopated rhythm

By JAMES PETTICAN
Published March 31, 2006

Time travel is regarded by most people as an intriguing idea whose time will never come. Yet many of us indulge in brief moments of it even though we may not realize it.

The antique car hobbyist working in his garage or the handy tinkerer restoring an old gramophone to working order are time travelers in their own way. Books, movies and TV shows also enable us to enjoy brief escapes into the past or the future.

In my case, it's the sound of music - music from the big band era. Many of us grumpy old-timers regard the 1930s and '40s as the golden age of American pop music. We are pleased it survives today and that even our newest generation has discovered swing dancing, possibly without even knowing its origins.

Every late winter and early spring, I am grateful to Busch Gardens for bringing us the contemporary editions of the great bands: Miller, Goodman, the Dorseys, Shaw and others.

No one reviews their concerts and they are seldom noted by today's observers of the pop music scene, and yet the musicians, representing both genders and a range of ages, continue to carry on with a level of musicianship rarely found today.

Their concerts, whether in theme parks, on cruise ships or in concert hall settings, are always very well attended; at least that's true of the ones I manage to get to.

Some schools also have big band and jazz groups, and I'm always heartened to hear about a group of really young kids being organized to form a band.

The term "band" is, in my ancient opinion, bandied about a bit carelessly today. A band is at least a dozen or more musicians. Any number less is properly termed a trio, quintet or on up the scale. Many of the big bands used smaller groups from within their ranks to interpret certain numbers.

Musicians of that time were not angelic, of course, and they often had more than a passing acquaintance with "Mary Jane," a term they used for marijuana. Yet they mostly wore coats and ties, got haircuts regularly, were clean-shaven and never appeared to have slept in their clothes. If they sported jewelry, it was confined to their fingers and wrists and never attached to their ears, except in the case of the girl band singers, of course.

Singing meant knowing how to carry a tune on key, knowing the difference between singing and shouting, and enunciating each word clearly. It was usually done while standing or sitting and never while jumping up and down. Singers never appeared to be in pain, either. If you found yourself quietly humming a tune as you left the concert or dance, you knew the composer and the performer had done their jobs.

Tracing it back to the era of ragtime (still heard at big band concerts today), this music is more than a century old.

With the current buzz about a base on the moon and eventually a colony on Mars, we can hope that generations not yet born will still be hearing the beat of what we fans and some of the concert promoters call "real music."

Retired journalist James Pettican lives in Palm Harbor. Guest columnists write their own views on subjects they choose, which do not necessarily reflect the opinions of this newspaper.

[Last modified March 31, 2006, 01:09:18]