Mellow Old Jazz

A Cure For Pain

Hauntology Now! is the Substack of interdisciplinary artist, designer, musician, academic writer, and cultural critic J. Simpson, where he writes about all things hauntological, atemporal, philosophical, as well as sharing thoughts, reflections, and musings on music, movies, books, and life.

On April 29, 2024, this world lost one of its Angels and Saints with the passing of my Mother, Phyllis Ann Frost (Simpson for most of my life). I was in Austin, Tx. covering the Austin Psych Fest for Spectrum Culture (review should go live tomorrow) when i got the call from my sister. Luckily, i was able to afford a plane ticket to Chicago for the funeral despite a recent financial hardship, so i was back on a plane within 48 hours, with a much heavier heart than when i was setting out for psych rock and tacos.

I spent all day Friday wandering around my old hometown of Chicago while i was waiting for my sister and her family to arrive. I listened to several old favorite albums while i was stalking Wicker Park (more on that soon) and started work on a series of mixes patterned after the stages of grieving (more on that soon, too), but i find myself returning to mellow jazz playlists on Spotify to soothe my shattered nerves.

I’d love to tell you i’m hardcore enough to revisit Wolf Eyes or Merzbow or Nautical Almanac on the street where they first captured my imagination (not like anyone would really care of be impressed by that, anyway) but i’m just waay too tender and delicate for such a thing this week. My grieving playlist is a slight comfort, but it also totally wrecks me. Ain’t no one want to see a grown-ass many ugly crying on an airplane to James Taylor’s “Fire and Rain.”

Mellow jazz is an interesting artform, with a long and gnarled history and many different implications, with a lot of different things that can be said (and i hope to see them.) As someone who likes and listens to a lot of Cool Jazz, i’ve become increasingly sensitive to the racial component and understand why a lot of Black musicians have a problem with it. As a child of the 90s, i was raised with a mistrust of Muzak and other forms of social engineering and anesthesia that i don’t hear as much about these days (anyone know of any recent writing on ambient music or sound design, either positive or negative? Please share!) With all of that being said, i need something to calm and soothe me this week. My nerves and synapses are already on fire. I can’t handle listening to Sun Ra right now.

With all of that being said, the one playlist i find myself returning to over and over is this marvelous Mellow Old Jazz playlist (with a lot of tunes already making their way onto my late night jazz playlist.) It’s less Kenny G smooth jazz and more tender Duke Ellington sophistication. It’s music for candlelight, for hushed tones, for moving slow and thinking even slower. It’s somewhere between early ‘40s romance and David Lynch doom jazz.

I’m sitting in a hotel room with my sister and her family as i type this. I’ve got my AKG headphones on but the volume is low, so i can hear the soft murmur of my sister and brother-in-law discussing file-sharing programs and digital signatures over the mellow brass sunburst of Sydney Bechet’s trumpet player. It’s nice. We don’t see one another very often and i am finding myself enjoying being part of this family.

My mom loved creating a nice mood for people. With her, it was usually delicious treats (although she was a music lover, a brilliant pianist and organ player with a clear, high soprano voice, although she tended towards spiritual.) She loved bringing people together. She would love that we’re all together, me listening to Benny Goodman (i think a recall a Benny Goodman 8-track in my parents bedroom, growing up), two generations of Simpson/Bates typing on their laptops and smartphones beneath a robin’s egg blue sky.

Rest in peace, mom. I love you more than words will ever begin to be able to express. I suspect i may spend the rest of my life trying.

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