Whitney Balliett

I always get a kick out of reading what I consider to be good writing, especially by a writer that is either new or unfamiliar to me. These days I am enjoying a journal of writings on jazz by the late Whitney Balliett. (He died in 2007 at the age of 80.) Balliett wrote hundreds of reviews and articles on jazz for The New Yorker. While I have long admired his insights and communication flare, wading through a collection of his work serves as a very nice reminder of just how strong he was with pen-in-hand.

"He nodded, and clapped his hands soundlessly." "The old Half-Note.....it's narrow, trestlelike bandstand, and it's lowering ceiling, a set in a German Expressionist movie." "Its irresistible and original characteristics seemed to imply endless spaces and crazy weather and the howdy openness of Southwesterners." "It was full of his usual devices - the slamming chords, the agitated staccato passages, the breathtaking arpeggios, the blizzard density - but it had two new qualities: lyricism and gentleness." Who writes like that? I am not sure anybody does these days. But Balliett sure did. As a former drummer, he took his love for music and made it sing with his writing. On top of that, he was enlightening.

Going back to the beginning of this entry, then, what is good writing to me? It is communication with flare, insight, good and useful information, heart, and thought. All these qualities jump out in the works of Balliett. Too bad he is no longer with us as effective communicators are always needed. Studs Terkel once called Balliett "one of our most trustworthy guides." In a literal sense, Balliett's work pertained to the subject of jazz. More broadly, however, he painted word pictures that inspired his followers to learn more about the complexities and layers of life itself. How I would love having even half of Balliett's great skills.