Book Review: Pops



Louis Armstrong explained his enduring popularity and appeal as a jazz trumpeter, singer and bandleader simply: "They know I'm there in the cause of happiness." With wit, authoritative musical knowledge and solid research, Terry Teachout lovingly chronicles Armstrong's career delivering happiness from his emergence in 1921 as a premier New Orleans jazz musician through his later fame as a popular entertainer: this was a man so versatile that he could create the 1938 jazz standard "When the Saints Go Marchin' In" and then make his sassy version of "Hello, Dolly" a No. 1 hit in 1963.

A tireless worker who expanded his range and repertoire over four decades, Armstrong broke one barrier after another for jazz musicians and black performers in America. He was the first jazz musician to be heard widely on radio, to appear on the cover of Time and on network TV; he was also the first black performer to receive star billing in a Hollywood movie. As Teachout points out, not everybody considered these achievements good things--his popularity, in fact, made him suspect in many quarters.

Bebop jazzmen like Dizzy Gillespie dismissed Armstrong as old-hat, and jazz critics and producers like John Hammond were "unable to see that the virtuoso clown and the fertile improviser were one and the same." In public, Armstrong ignored his critics because, as he stated, "showmanship does not mean you're not serious." In the privacy of his own home, though, he was more candid. Using Armstrong's personal writings and hours of tape recordings, Teachout reveals the scathing opinions Pops held of those knocking him and his success.

Audiences may have seen Armstrong as perennially happy and uncomplicated, but Teachout makes us aware of many crises behind the scenes. He discusses the influence of mobsters in jazz clubs and dance halls, the demeaning daily reality of segregation during Armstrong's early touring years and the in-fighting among leading jazz performers. There was an ongoing issue with Armstrong's upper lip, too. He teased out remarkable sounds in the way he played the trumpet, but his lip placement caused such damage that, by 1934, he had serious problems with "lip-shredding."

Armstrong wasn't going to let mere physical ailments stop him--he was always ready to embrace more music and more life. Asked what he liked in a woman, a smiling Armstrong once confessed, "First thing I look at is her general shape. It must be sharp and full of nice curves. . . . Then I dig her lips. A woman's lips must say, 'Come here and kiss me, Pops.'" The man and his music were irresistible, and Teachout's biography captures all of that magic.--John McFarland

Shelf Talker: An exhilarating biography of an American original that also charts the way the U.S. and popular entertainment changed from 1921 to 1971.

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