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Abstract
This article investigates the concept of imagined community amongst professional jazz
musicians; more closely the way that this imagined community functions within the
scene. Through the focusing on the imagined community, the article extends the exami-
nation into the performance venues, the movement between venues and the meanings
attached to them, revealing the reasons why an imagined community is beneficial for the
musician. The research data are composed of ethnographic fieldwork conducted in jazz
circles in the United Kingdom between 2006 and 2012. Through the exploration of the
places occupied by the musicians, the article reveals how the community becomes con-
crete through the musicians’ movements. The article examines what added value it might
hold for them. All in all, the investigation makes sense of the social conditions that create
the need for such a community.
Introduction
Jazz musicians represent a professional group moving between venues.
Their profession is defined by instability, similar to individual entrepreneurs
where the work community is largely lacking. The musicians nonetheless
have a wide network created within the venues while they themselves move
between them. As these encounters between individual musicians can be
random, in this article it is my aim to demonstrate that the musicians over-
come this instability by creating an ‘imagined community’, a group where
they feel they belong while the closer ties with the community are loose.
In this article, I propose that instead of talking about work community it
is clearer to talk about imagined community as the connection between
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Place and imagined community in jazz 63
individual members are not very tight or regular. My argument is that the
word community does not always work very well when viewing the jazz
musicians’ working environment. Therefore, I propose that certain aspects
of the jazz world are better understood if viewed through the concept of
‘imagined community’.
The term community was developed in social theory already at the
turn of the twentieth century and was largely influenced by Durkheim’s
thoughts. Since then the term has been widely used and community has
also been adopted into jazz research. However, the community’s relation-
ship to the places it occupies, or the disconnection from them, has received
little attention within jazz studies. It is nonetheless the jazz musicians’ rela-
tionship with a place and their movement from one place to another that
distinguishes them from other occupations and thus defines the musicians’
profession.
This article investigates the concept of imagined community amongst
professional jazz musicians; more closely the way that this imagined com-
munity functions within the scene and within the venues where the musi-
cians perform. Through the focusing on the imagined community, the
article extends the examination into the performance venues, the move-
ment between venues and the meanings attached to them, revealing how
the imagined community appears and the reasons why it is useful or ben-
eficial for the musician.
Through the exploration of the places occupied by the musicians, the
article reveals how the community becomes concrete through the musi-
cians’ movements. The aim is also to examine the reasons why the musi-
cians need the imagined community and what added value it might hold for
them. All in all, the investigation makes sense of the social conditions that
create the need for such a community.
aspirants for whom jazz is the central focus of their career’ while it sur-
passes boundaries created by age, class and ethnicity (Berliner 1994: 36).
It is a community created by mutual passion.
Ken Prouty (2012) has criticized jazz scholars for using the term com-
munity often without genuine understanding of the term or a clear definition
of what it means. Even Ingrid Monson (1996) uses the idea of community
in her investigation of the jazz ensemble and improvisation, but does not
really explain in her work how she defines it. Most of the scholarly work
does not focus much on the larger community which is at the heart of this
article. As Prouty has extensively listed the authors studying jazz commu-
nity, I will not go into too many details about these studies. Instead, I will
focus on the concept of imagined community, while some definitions about
the use of the community are nonetheless needed.
In this article, I will use the word community in a limited fashion and in
reference only to professional jazz musicians. In a comparable way to other
professional groups, the musicians have a work community. This commu-
nity nonetheless differentiates from other such communities, due to the
absence of stable work space.
The term communality also raises the question of how one becomes a
member. For the musicians, the membership is based on the demonstra-
tion of the individual’s competence. The same procedure has been in prac-
tice ever since the early years of jazz and the birth of jam sessions, where
the upcoming and rising musicians’ skills were tested.2 These events were
and still are an important way to make necessary contacts and to ensure
future gigs. For example, the Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club in London still hosts
late-night jam sessions.
The musician’s status and value within the community of musicians is
not primarily created by the level of education that the individual musician
has had. A completely self-educated musician can also be accepted as
part of the community if his or her skills correspond with the expectations.
After the initial entrance to the scene has been made the professional com-
munity becomes, as this article demonstrates, largely imaginary. That is,
some aspects of the community can be better understood as an imagina-
tive community, a point that I will return to later.
But how does the imagined community differentiate from the normal
community? Benedict Anderson launched the concept of imagined commu-
nity in the early 1980s when studying nationalism and nations. He pointed
Elina: And I was thinking also that in respect that it takes away some
of the control that you have over the music when there’s somebody
actually…
P: Oh, I believe so, yeah! Yep. Yeah. As I said, if you’ve got some-
one lunatic in front who’s, who’s thinking that, you know, he’s not a
sound engineer, he’s a performance artist. Then it really, really can
be, it really can be quite a negative [experience]. So yeah, that is
important (P3 2010).4
In the passage above the musician confirms that the sound technician takes
away some of the control of the performance. The sound is the most impor-
tant part of the musical performance and the musician’s work is evaluated
based on this. It is therefore understandable that the disruptions caused
by external people create tension. This particular musician had solved the
conflict by having his tour manager look over things when performing with
his band. The tour manager then acts as a buffer between the musician and
technician ensuring the quality is maintained.
It is not just the sound technicians, but the musicians are also creat-
ing an opposition between the performers on stage and the other off-stage
groups. The separation is highlighted by the fact that the musicians are a
free professional group working within a single club. They are untethered
from the daily running of the club and will be moving onto another venue
the next day unlike the other professionals within a venue. This freedom
might lead us to believe that musicians as a professional group do not
What is essential in this is the knowledge of the place, knowing one’s place
within the venue where one is always welcome as well as the musician
being known within the place. It is within these venues that the musicians
strengthen their feeling of belonging and their identity as musician. The
performance venue, similarly to home, is marked by stability and mutual
feeling of familiarity with staff and audience as well as physical structures
allowing long-term and multi-layered meanings to be created. This famil-
iarity and stability can be threatened, for example, by the refurbishment or
relocation of the club, even though these changes might be caused by the
need to renovate an old, rundown venue.
Tuan (2006) has argued that we expect our home to stay the same
whenever we return to it and we rely on this stability. People need a place
or places that form a wholeness or that strengthen their inner experience
through their genuine nature. These places are often associated with the
feeling of time standing still, allowing us to know that the place is still the
same even though the world is changing. Changes in the home—or in an
important venue—seem to erase something of the person’s sense of self.
Tuan points out that humanity requires stability to strengthen our inner
experience. We need to freeze time so that we can reflect on who we are or
who we think we are. The feeling of wholeness can be a very healing expe-
rience (Tuan 2006: 18–20; see also Hytönen-Ng 2013: 127–28).
Tuan compares home to love that builds up slowly and notes that cer-
tain places can cause the feeling of ‘love at first sight’. Even places that
we visit only once can invoke as strong an effect on us as a home. While
home involves multiple layers of meaning, the ‘love at first sight’ places
have fewer layers and therefore the emotions that we have towards them
are easier to articulate (Tuan 2006: 19). The meanings that the musicians
associate with a particular venue can also have a long history built up along
the years of still being an outsider to the community, a student learning the
trade.
The importance of stability becomes evident when we perceive venues
that have been running in a particular location for decades. The familiarity is
partly then constructed by the knowledge that the venue is there and stays
the same even though the surroundings, the buildings around it, might
change. This might also be linked with the knowledge of performers who
have played at the club before. The musician might feel connected to the
venue through the deceased performers who used to perform at the same
venue. The imagined community therefore stretches over time, as Ander-
son (2006) and Finlayson (2012) suggest.
Sometimes the connection is even strengthened by the fact that the
same instruments played by the long-gone musician might still be circling
amongst the musicians. It could therefore be possible that the musician
performing at a certain club could be playing the same instruments as the
deceased musicians who performed there years before. During fieldwork,
I heard discussions about the saxophone that belonged to Ronnie Scott,
and what it would feel like to play that instrument at the Ronnie Scott’s
Jazz Club. The instrument could then strengthen the musician’s feeling of
belonging into the community and the scene, and even belonging into a
certain club. This is an example of how the musician’s sense of community,
operating through the power of imagination, can surpass time and place
(see Kanno and Norton 2012).
The musicians’ work also involves the spaces in between the venues.
Touring means moving from venue to venue, sometimes hundreds of miles
apart. This extends the musicians’ work to non-places, relating to the idea
of minimizing place and the idea of the installations that the transporta-
tion of humans and commodities demands. Airports, stations as well as
visiting soloists for house bands of jazz clubs. The work of visiting soloists
is based on the standard repertoire. It is this shared language that strength-
ens the feeling of community and connection.5
The work is defined by the movement from one place and ensemble to
another, making daily life a fragmented puzzle. Daily mobility, for example
within the British jazz scene, creates a situation where the individual ses-
sion musicians do not necessarily meet each other on a regular basis. This
instability makes it hard for the musicians to maintain close friendships.
The situation is overcome by the expectation that the other musicians will
understand the temporary and hectic nature of the profession. Interactions
with other musicians are limited mainly to the encounters that take place
within the venues thus highlighting the nature and the importance of these
meetings.
The fieldwork observations and musicians’ comments suggest that the
time that has passed since the last meeting with a particular musician does
not seem to be significant. One participant explained the relationship with
fellow musicians in the following way:
And musicians also have a skill, which I think is quite unique, which
is… if you don’t see someone sometimes for years, and then you work
together, you carry on as if it was the day after the last time you saw
them. So it’s, there’s absolutely none of that [formal small talk]… So
you walk in straight away and say the first rude thing to each other,
you know, straight away. ‘Oh, you is it!’ You know. And they respond
with some and that’s it for the day, you know. And then maybe it’s
another year [before you meet them again]… But, but you have that
sort of warm memory of a great time (P2 2011).
5. On the importance of standard repertoire see Berliner 1994: 63–64; see also Mon-
son 1996: 183–84.
Conclusions
Within London, jazz musicians are performing a lot of one-off gigs and the
assembly of an ensemble can change from one day to the next. Regular
interactions with colleagues are therefore often a mere impossibility. The
musicians nonetheless recognize that they are part of the same scene and
treat each other as if the last meeting happened quite recently despite the
time in between. The connections are thus imagined to be more solid than
what they actually are. The individual musician’s movements within the
scene is often just the mobility of a single person, which occurs in a similar
fashion to a ping-pong ball bouncing off the walls of a glass cube. While all
the other musicians are also moving in a similar manner, the picture of the
scene becomes very fragmented. It is nonetheless the venues that tie the
fragmented movements together. The venues are the points that bring the
musicians together and create the community.
While the somewhat ‘random’ movements of the individual musician
are happening, it is the imagined community that keeps up the idea of still
being part of something, even when the musicians’ ties to the actual com-
munity—where regular meetings are a norm—are loose. It is this feeling of
belonging where the musicians’ work identity is constructed and motivation
is maintained. Despite the randomness of the meetings and their tempo-
rary nature, the imagined community keeps up the musicians’ links to the
scene and to the people he or she might not meet for years or who have
died years ago. The cultural norms and values maintained within the jazz
scene strengthen the feeling of community.
The knowledge of shared social place, shared venues, makes it possible
for the interaction to continue seamlessly. All the parties know the internal
etiquette and values of the community. The community, even if imagined,
becomes concrete within the shared performance venues. The musi-
cians realize the community in their speech. They created it with a group of
musicians who move within the same scene and use the same clubs even
though they might not meet each other within these venues. The knowl-
edge of the others’ movements within the scene creates the feeling of com-
munity. The musicians working in the same scene know each other or know
of each other even though they might not have played together, as might
be the case for example for two saxophonists. The stronger sense of com-
munality is created within speech, by sharing knowledge about venues,
genre values and aesthetics.
Clearly the clubs are essential in maintaining musicians’ sense of be-
longing and the feeling of community. The imagined community provides
the musicians with the tools to stay connected to the scene throughout,
or despite, the travelling. The meaningfulness of these places highlights
the fact that all forms of art must belong somewhere, preferably in a place
where the audience will find it (Becker 1984). Those venues where art is
being presented are important for the development of the surrounding
community.
For the musicians, the feeling that one belongs somewhere can
strengthen the musicians’ professional identity. In addition, the perfor-
mance venues and the interaction that take place there will connect the
musician into the larger community of musicians. The performance venues
therefore have a more profound meaning to the musicians than to a random
audience member. Through the musical interaction with the venue the
musicians are strengthening the feeling of continuity. The music played at
a certain club will create for both the musicians and the audience a feel-
ing that things are in place and that places will stay the same even though
a practical approach demonstrates that they are constantly changing. The
music strengthens the feeling of continuity as well as allowing the creation
of mutual belonging and connection to a place (see Holt and Wergin 2013).
The communities live in relation to the surrounding society and the
historical developments of the larger society. Musical cultures and their
development can be understood only in relation to the surrounding com-
munities, their histories and the discourses surrounding them (see Holt and
Wergin 2013). Societal and historical discourses will have an impact on
what venues are being offered to a particular genre, what places are seen
as worth saving, as well as what is the cultural heritage that is seen worth
treasuring. It is the community, not the outsiders, who determine what
venues the members of a particular genre will make their own and what
venues will become culturally significant for that genre. These decisions are
always linked to the definitions and evaluations made by the community.
The places influence our experiences and intentions, as Relph (2008)
has pointed out. For the musicians, the performance venues as places are
essential for their identities and the community of the musicians. But in a
similar way the movement between the venues—the temporary placeless-
ness—is essential for this identity. It is the experience of touring that makes
the professional musician and unites him or her with the community and its
history. It is nonetheless the movement in between venues that creates the
need for the imagined community as the more stable community cannot be
formed. The imaginary community does not replace the existing ‘real’ com-
munity that resides in a venue, but is perhaps parallel to it. It is this imag-
ined community that reminds the musicians of the ‘real’ community and it
is the imaginary aspects of the community that strengthens the musicians’
feeling of belonging even when regular meetings with other community
members are not taking place.
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