By Miles Jaye
Naïve is the first word that comes to mind when I think back on my early experiences in the music business or record industry, whichever you prefer. As a New Yorker, I had been exposed to a widely diverse, multicultural environment.
As a youngster I played in multi-cultural student orchestras, Brooklyn Borough-Wide Jr. High School Orchestra (3years) and New York City-Wide High School Orchestra (3 years). Brooklyn Tech, my high school, had a population of approximately 3,000 students from all five boroughs— Brooklyn, Bronx, Queens, Manhattan and Staten Island.
At Brooklyn College I had Jewish professors and Muslim schoolmates. I ate fresh hot bagels for lunch nearly every day.
My Air Force days were not only a mix of races but also of cultures with folks from virtually every corner of the nation bringing their own homegrown accents and attitudes right along with them. The Air Force Band of the Pacific traveled from Guam and Hawaii to Hong Kong, Japan, Burma, Taiwan, Philippines, and S. Korea.
When I traveled with jazz guitarist Eric Gale to the European Jazz festivals in Nice (France), North Sea (Holland), Capitol in London, I met folks from all over the globe. I performed with the Village People in Peru, Columbia, and Australia.
Well-traveled and exposed to so much of what the world had to offer; I was eager to experience more. What I experienced was the Black Market.
No, I’m not referring to the illegal exchange of goods commonly known as the Black Market, I’m referring to what is more commonly referred to as the Urban Market. Urban means Back folks. Island, like most record labels back then, actually had a Black Music Department.
After all the music I had made in my life up to that point, I was now limited and more accurately, restricted to making Black music. I know, what did I think they were signing me for? I don’t know, making good music? Wrong! Making good Black music.
Here’s a point of interest. At the time of my signing there were about 200 Black or Urban radio stations compared to roughly 3,000 General Market, Adult Contemporary, Rock, Pop, or White, stations.
Consider this; a successful music industry career is predicated on exposure. The more you are seen and heard, the more likely you will reach your audience. Very few artists capture all audiences, they’re known as cross-over artists—Michael Jackson, Prince, Garth Brooks, Sting, Barbara Streisand, Aretha Franklin, Celine Dion for example. At the time, the majority of Black artists live out their careers in the Urban domain.
Interestingly, jazz, disco, hip-hop and rap all performed better in reaching diverse audience listening and buying platforms. R&B, soul, neo-soul are strictly for Black folks. Gospel is a little tricky and a little more difficult to explain.
Suffice it to say, it’s what I call, artist dependent. Meaning, if the General Market is comfortable enough with the look and style of the artist, that artist may have a shot at crossing-over. In an effort to capture some of the Smooth Jazz or Contemporary Jazz market, I approached Island about recording a jazz violin record— no chance.
They were clear about what they wanted—another Teddy, the next Teddy, the new Teddy. I politely reminded them that last I checked, although Ted was dealing with some very serious health and medical issues, he was by no means gone from the scene.
I thought trying to cop (pardon the pun) or emulate his style or vibe would have just been disrespectful.
In fact, it wasn’t until after his passing that I felt comfortable enough to record a few of his hits. That was paying homage to one of my mentors.
Truthfully, I knew I didn’t have that Teddy magic, swag, confidence or charisma. Only he had it. Plus, I was silly enough to believe that given the chance, I could reveal my own God given magic. Think about it, who else could step up to the mic and sing a few verses, then step back and play a jazzy violin solo, then finish out the song singing?
At least that was my logic and quite frankly my crutch, my secret weapon. I had to deal with cats like Luther, Jeff Osborne, James Ingram, Howard Hewitt, Will Downing and other brothers on the scene at the time. They were killing it. I was terrified! I felt like my only shot was to bring something unique to the table, but Island wasn’t having it. Unbutton your shirt and sing, so I wore suits. Actually, I’ve always thought of myself as a musician first, singer second—still do.
The music industry’s unlevel playing field is nothing new. From the earliest days of the so called Race Records marketed directly to Black folks to Michael Jackson and Prince using their music to expose unfair industry practices and inequities, this is nothing new.
Separating music genres by zip codes is patently ridiculous. I enjoy country music as much as MSNBC’s, Ari Melber, loves rap. Music was once organic, pure, spiritual, and soulful regardless of race, culture or gender. What happened? Music was called the Universal Language.
What happened? I fell in love with the intoxicating beauty of melody, the irrepressible power of rhythm and the timeless art of expression, with no regard to White, Black, Brown, Red, Yellow of whatever.
How sad is it that once again with all that we contribute, with all that we accomplish, with all the skills that we have mastered, with the immense uniqueness of our gifts, there remains a stifling sense of insufficiency and inferiority.
I never learned to play Black music in the first place, and I have absolutely no interest whatsoever in selling out or selling my soul to cross over.
The only crossing over I’m concerned about is when it’s time to go see my Maker. Otherwise, if you want to hear my music, you’ll probably find it in the Black Market.
That’s what’s on my mind.
Website: www.milesjaye.net
Podcast: https://bit.ly/2zkhSRv
Email: milesjaye360@gmail.com
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