I informed them that I was a graduate student studying jazz performers on the New York scene and was interested in finding out “what makes this music so powerful and important.” I told the musicians that participation in the study would require my seeing them perform and record as well as my interviewing them. Most responded favorably and exchanged phone numbers with me. Not all, however, responded to my phone calls or agreed to become part of the study. In particular, my attempt to include female musicians in my sample was hampered by their tacit refusals, even in those situations where other musicians or scene participants vouched for me.30
My entry into some areas of the scene was easier because of another contact I made in August of 1994. Through Robert G. O’Meally of Columbia University I met Peter Watrous, then the only full-time jazz critic for the New York Times. I served as Watrous’s intern from September of 1994 to August of 1995. My duties consisted of helping him to catalog and file the dozens of recordings and books he received on a weekly basis. In exchange for that work I was able to accompany him to nearly every performance he attended (when my own plans did not conflict with his) and was introduced to musicians, club owners, booking agents, publicists, photographers, record label personnel, and writers whom he knew. I also gained insight both into the role of the media in the scene’s functioning and into the music editorial procedures of the New York Times. Sometimes that understanding emerged from direct conversation with Watrous. At other times it came more obliquely, through attending and discussing shows with him and comparing the verbal “drafts” of his reviews with what eventually was—or was not—published.
My primary method was participant observation: I made observations at musical events—rehearsals, live performances, and recording sessions—in which I functioned as a participant in some capacity. I also made observations in those settings in which I listened to or discussed recorded music with other individuals. Evaluations of recordings generally included conversation about the background of the artists and the conditions under which recordings were made, if such information was known to anyone present. I kept chronological field notes recording the observations I made at musical events as well as my impressions from listening sessions. Among the data recorded were the date, place, time, and relative length of musical events or sessions; the role(s) of specific individuals or groups in those events; narration of moment-to-moment communication and interaction among the participants (see Jackson 1992); listings of the musicians present and the songs played; the responses of audience members to a musical event; records of conversations with other participants; and my own impressions and evaluations. During musical events I produced handwritten “scratch notes” that, combined with my recollections and other “headnotes” (see Sanjek 1990; Ottenberg 1990), were the basis for typed field notes. I typed these notes as soon as possible after a musical event, generally before going to sleep or, when that was not feasible, upon awakening later in the day. In the typewritten notes I attempted to capture as much as I could remember of what I observed but had not written down, mingling reporting with interpretation and evaluation. In addition, my chronological field notes contain records of phone conversations and other discussions that were not tape-recorded, appointments, phone numbers, contact information, biographical sketches, and any other information directly related to or drawn from the participant observation portion of my fieldwork—both at and away from musical events.
The central activities that comprised my fieldwork entailed progressively deeper involvement with the functioning of the scene. In the first couple of months I limited my activities to attending live performances alone and making contact with musicians and other participants. I used this time to establish myself as a regular on the scene, to be recognized as a participant in it. That process required major shifts in my lifestyle, particularly my sleeping habits. I quickly found myself waking between noon and 1 PM and retiring between 4 and 5 AM. Such a schedule made it easier for me to hang out with the musicians I knew and was coming to know. Being able to stay through the last set of a musical performance (such as the 2 AM set at Bradley’s) and, more importantly, for the socializing that took place after it ended allowed me to participate in conversations that the most casual scene participants—or those with day jobs—typically miss. In part because of that schedule, my involvement with friends and colleagues not related to my research became largely non-existent. By the end of my fieldwork period, the jazz scene had become my social world: whenever I went to live performances I would see someone I knew well in the audience, whether or not I knew the musicians who were performing. I’d frequently sit through a set or two with whomever I met and go with them afterward to Bradley’s for the late set.
During those times I engaged in conversation with musicians and others about aspects of performances and got recommendations about upcoming performances that I should attend as well as certain “blessed records” that they liked or felt had exerted great influence on them.31 In some cases, discussion of such recordings was triggered by the music that happened to be playing on the stereo system in the venue.32 Sometimes musicians who didn’t know me well would test me by asking me to identify the performer(s) on a recording by listening attentively. Making both my own choices about performances and following the recommendations of musicians and Peter Watrous, I generally attended no fewer than four live performances per week during the fieldwork period, sometimes going to three venues in the course of one evening. By attending performances and studying blessed recordings, I gained more insight into the criteria that distinguished good performers and recordings. I also enhanced my ability to recognize songs from the standard jazz repertoire and to analyze performances instantly, discerning elements of form, feel, meter, harmony, and substitutions as well as other parameters.
After this early period I started attending performances with the musicians and other individuals whose acquaintance I had made. The conversations that resulted from our reactions to what we were hearing and experiencing helped me to understand the evaluative criteria of individuals on the scene and to compare those criteria with my own. Among the many things that I learned in this process was that my criteria were not significantly different from those of the musicians and listeners with whom I interacted. Like them, I was listening, for example, for aspects of form, arrangement, style, creativity, and play in individual performance and group interaction.
In late September I started attending recording sessions sporadically as well as spending time with musicians outside of performance contexts, such as in their apartments or on social outings. These activities, combined with the observation of numerous performances, helped me to ascertain the “communicative norms” of individuals on the scene. Charles L. Briggs (1986) recommends that one attempt to learn these norms in the early phases of fieldwork, paying particular attention to how queries are framed, who has the right to ask questions, of whom, and on which topics. Based on that investigation, one can then design an interview methodology that takes into account what one has discovered.
In late October I started reviewing my field notes to see which issues had been prominent during my field experience. In those notes I had included potential questions to ask in interviews, such as questions about the role of various people in the recording industry, the importance of audience interaction, and conflicts among musicians in touring groups. I also noticed topics on which I needed more information. In comparing the issues raised in my notes with my central questions, I began to formulate an interview schedule focused on the dynamics of the scene, its various agents and actors, and interactive parameters of performance. I started conducting tape-recorded formal interviews with musicians in November 1994 and continued until September 1995. Although some interviews were conducted in restaurants, cafés, or offices, the majority were conducted in the homes of the musicians. Conducting interviews in musicians’ homes generated other questions regarding their record collections and memorabilia.33 (I also conducted a series of informal interviews with recording industry personnel, most frequently in performance venues, that allowed me to understand the work they did and its function in the scene.) I prepared for musicians’ interviews by reviewing whatever notes I had taken on performances by them, reviewing comments that had been made about them by other musicians or in the press, and listening to a sample of their recordings to generate questions specifically geared toward them. When interviewing non-musicians, my questions focused on their work, their pathways to it,
