10 More Reasons Why I Hate Jazz, By Miriam Nerval, a “Pathetic Loser”

1. Walking Bass lines. I can’t believe I forgot this first time around! Whoever came up with this is a fucking genius, Mozart’s turning in his grave for not coming up with it first. It’s just so inventive! This is probably my favourite form of walking bass:

Wahoo! I don’t know whether it’s the damn “catchy” step wise movement (it makes me want to shoot a staple gun into my ear drums) or the flattened 7th (god bless that Bb) that signals a revolution, but I’m pretty sure it’s pioneering something, somehow…

2. Trumpets. (I really really hope Malcolm doesn’t see this one)..Trumpets are so loud and obnoxious, they ruin everything- quiet moments, music, my life. Some trumpet playing is more tolerable than others, Jazz (of course) being my VERY LEAST FAVOURITE. Especially muted trumpets; ooooh what a whacky sound, how cool, how quirky, HOW HORRIBLE. Can’t you hear the noise you’re creating? For a couple of bars or so, it’s bearable, I guess it’s always nice to have a bit of a change, but 5 pieces later, I want nothing more than to shove that mute right up you’re fucking trumpet and get to a sick bag asap.

The names of the mutes are almost as bad as the sound they create- Buzz-wah and Wah-Wah being the pick of the bunch. I’d like to take this opportunity to point out the suffix “wah” is ONLY acceptable following the prefix MIZ, blatez.

what a fucking twat

3. Miles Davis. This year I had to study “Four” in A-Level music. This opens with a trumpet cadenza, which due to my teacher’s assurances that old Miles was a virtuoso, I expected to blow me away. No. No. NO. I was sourly disappointed when we were instead presented with what was essentially an upwards rising scale, played in triplets, just to add that je ne sais quoi. My teacher LOVED how he’s improvised such a thing, across such a wide range of notes. Well done. Would you like a fucking medal for knowing all the notes on your instrument? You’re meant to be a virtuoso ( Virtuoso n. a person who has special knowledge or skill in a field.) A special knowledge? A SPECIAL knowledge?! Point me too a good trumpet player who couldn’t whack out a scale spanning 3 octaves or so? I think a new jazz king needs to be elected. If this is what you’re presenting us with, it’s no wonder you look like a fucking joke. NOTE: I’m not just hating on miles, there was a number of other contenders, including Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Minger and Howlin’ fucking wolf.

4. Stop time. What a RADICAL creation. No really, my whole life has been turned upside down because of it. I’m not even going to go into that one, it’s just ball bags. Absolute ball bags.

5. Scat. Although it’s scat that really makes me want to rip your vocal chords out using a shard from a smashed Charlie Mingus record, Jazz Vocals as a whole probably win my award for WORST noise EVER to come out of someone’s mouth, and I saw blazin’ squad twice when I was 11, so that’s really saying something. You sound like a warbling old lady whose started to loose control over her vocal chords, you really do. And scat is even worse! EURGH! It’s hardly revolutionary improv when all you’re doing is making stupid noises to a little tune. My three year old cousin can do that, but it doesn’t mean I’m hailing her as the next big thing. Ella Fitzgerald was a right jerk off.

6. Any swell blues song that opens with “I woke up this morning..”. Cool. I wish you hadn’t.

7. Stupid stage names. Last time around I touched upon the stupid names of the pieces, but the names of the people writing the stupid pieces are even worse. The ONLY “Dizzy” that should be tolerated is that Rascal; and as for Howlin’ Wolf- I don’t think it wise to so openly invite comparisons between yourself and a wild dog when you sound like you do. Then there’s “Duke” Ellington, you are NOT a Duke. “Pretentious Idiot” Ellington, or “Some one should tell me to shut the hell up” Ellington may have been a more appropriate choice.  (I realise that as I wander around calling myself stupid names like “Mizzee” I may not be one to comment- but then I’m a youf of today, fucking gangsta, and so off the wall I’m hangin’ from the ceiling man)

8. Bebop. So off the wall you can forget my ceiling, this baby can’t even be boxed into a room. Most of the Jazz Musicians I know get a bit excited about bebop, it’s like so frantic I can TOTALLY see why… Like, the metronome has been tweaked up a couple of knotches and wait, oh here’s a radical idea, why don’t we rename the themes “head”- cool man, I’ll grab my dancing shoes.

jazzy geoff

My ears are bleeding.

9. I read once that “jazz, by its very definition CANNOT be orchestrated”, isn’t that a bit elitist? Cutting off an entire genre, making it only accessible to those lucky enough to have the talent for improvising, and with a good ear? What about the millions of competent musicians who aren’t so good at that kind of thing, but want to play a little jazz? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not opposed to musicians not reading music, that’s not the point I’m trying to make. Some of the best musicians I know are stave-illiterate, and I play by ear 80% of the time cos I’m just too lazy to read the notes. But I think to start something with the intention of NOT letting it be written down, even by someone else, is a bit ball bags really isn’t it?

Having said that, I kind of wish no one ever did write down jazz, then we couldn’t have it forced upon us at numerous points in our musical education.

10. Jazz Cafes. Talk about putting me off my food. What’s the appeal? We aren’t living in the 1920’s, move the hell on. My auntie took me to a little jazz café once, there was a lovely squeaky violin treating us to a sharp rendition of Rhapsody in Blue, I’d pretended to be sick in the toilet to get out of there within the first 16-24 bars. Sometimes I still have nightmares about it. I wake up screaming. The haunting screech of the violin’s E string echoing around my head ’till the early hours.

For anyone else suffering similar symptoms, I find that a good dose of Stiff Little Fingers will whack it straight out of you.

Just as a side note, I would like to make it public knowledge that once I’ve discovered I’ve failed A-Level music tomorrow, it is the Jazz module that will be COMPLETELY to blame. It’s a bit hard to take anything in when you wince and start vomiting every time the teacher presses play.

Please don’t letter bomb my house for this. It’s not my fault if you’re warped enough to like Miles Davis.

Peace and Yellow Things.

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Tags: hate jazz, i hate jazz, jazz, jazz is for losers, jazz is gay, jazz jerk, jazz jerk off