Hall of Fame Outcasts: Jimi Hendrix & Frank Zappa
By Dan Ouellette
Hands down, the most controversial members of Down Beat’s Hall of Fame are two iconic guitarists best known for their sonic experimentations in the blues and rock spheres. In the wake of the inductions of Jimi Hendrix (in 1970) and Frank Zappa (in 1994), angry letters were fired off to the editor and heated discussions among fans and critics erupted. Even though the musical scope of Down Beat’s coverage is broad (hence the motto Jazz, Blues & Beyond), the magazine has traditionally been regarded as synonymous with jazz. So, the argument goes, save the two slots per year for those musicians who made an important impact in the jazz realm. Thumbs up to Duke and Trane and Miles. On the flip side, many jazz musicians, especially those from the younger generations, swear by Jimi and/or Frank as invaluable influences.
Not surprisingly, some jazz guitarists today celebrate the two, while others either scratch their heads or cry foul, citing Hendrix and Zappa as Hall of Fame aberrations.
Russell Malone falls into the latter camp. “I’m not a purist, believe me,” he says. “But I say call a spade a spade. Jimi Hendrix and Frank Zappa were not jazz musicians, so they don’t belong. Hey, I think both were great, but if Down Beat’s Hall of Fame is a jazz institution, then they shouldn’t be in it. Any other Hall of Fame? You bet. Jazz hall? No way.”
Mark Elf agrees: “Although I loved Jimi when I was a kid and he still brings back memories of my youth, he was more in a blues-rock bag. His lines were not in a jazz feel and not really harmonically deep. So I would say yes to blues and rock hall of fames, but not jazz.”
John Abercrombie also weighs in against the Hendrix and Zappa inductions. While he admits that he’s done his own share of mixing musical genres, he feels a line must be drawn. “Both those guys deserve statues,” he says. “I was influenced by Hendrix and I was just listening to a Zappa album the other day, and he delivered some great jazz solos. I’m a great admirer, but there’s more to jazz than improvisation. When you play jazz, there’s also the tradition you’re playing in. Neither Hendrix or Zappa had that.”
While on the subject, Abercrombie cites another example of how he feels the term jazz has gotten a little too broad: the Down Beat critics voting Bill Frisell’s album Nashville as Jazz Album of the Year in 1998. “I may be a curmudgeon, but at that point I said that’s going too far over the line. I like that record, but voting it as the best jazz album is like giving a Joe Lovano CD the top country music award.”
So, what does Frisell think of Hendrix and Zappa being in the Hall? He’s in favor. “Sure, why not?” he says when asked if the pair belongs. “I’d like to think that the Hall of Fame can include a wide variety of music. I see myself as a jazz musician, but I don’t like the strict categories. It seems a few years ago people were more open and less confining about what jazz could be. I can’t help but think John Coltrane and Wes Montgomery would think it was cool both Jimi and Frank were in.”
Frisell notes that Hendrix and Zappa helped to form him as a musician. “They were both heavy musicians who changed perceptions of how to approach music,” he says, citing the former’s huge, organic sound and the latter’s genius for combining musicians from different disciplines who didn’t normally play together. “Neither of them fit in with the way jazz was supposed to be. They made it OK to do what I’m doing today.”
While Steve Tibbetts feels the jury is still out on Zappa, he would have voted for Hendrix in a flash. “If you put Ellington in there, you’d better put Hendrix,” he says. “Jimi was such a successful mutant oddity on the electric guitar that you have to genuflect at his altar.”
Tibbetts was so exuberant about Hendrix’s contributions to jazz and music in general that a couple of days after our telephone conversation he sent me a black & white postcard of a smiling Hendrix. On the back, Tibbetts wrote: “Like this: There’s a three-way crossroad and three cars burning down three gravel roads that meet at an intersection. Little Richard in one, Les Paul and Mary Ford and the 8-track recorder he invented in another, and Leo Fender with a Strat in the back seat of the third. Robert Johnson is standing at the crossroads, waiting. All the cars arrive at the same time. There’s a crash, a huge explosion, shredding metal, a fireball, smoke. The smoke clears and there’s no wreckage, just a brand new Stingray. Hendrix is in the driver’s seat. He’s smiling.”
So, in the end, the debate will swirl on: to wrangle over definitions and borders, to deliberate on what’s pure and what isn’t, to delve into jazz politics about what swings and what doesn’t, to lock horns on who merits the rare prizes. But isn’t that one of the quintessential dynamics of jazz culture? At least there’s substance to the controversy. Hey, if we were rock heads, we could be quarreling right now over whether Marilyn Manson’s breasts have been enhanced and if he really believes in the goth lifestyle.
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