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What all of these musicians have in common is that, almost to a man, they are passing through career doors that were opened by the success of Wynton Marsalis. "Young men can now make a living playing straight-ahead jazz, and Wynton is responsible for that being possible," says Dan Morgenstern, director of the Institute of Jazz Studies of Rutgers University. Says George Butler, the executive producer at Columbia Records who signed both Marsalis and Connick: "Wynton has played a major role in the popularity of this music today. This is probably the most propitious time for this music since the '50s and early '60s."
Butler has been on the cutting edge of the new jazz age. But with Marsalis' success, other major labels have joined what amounts to a feeding frenzy on young talent. Although they had virtually abandoned straight-ahead jazz by the early '80s, most major record companies have now established active jazz divisions. Many of them have also begun digging into their vaults and reissuing hundreds of classic jazz recordings.
Thus not only are the companies making money on jazz but the music is reaching a younger, far larger audience than ever before. At the same time, public interest in the music is being fed by the spread of jazz-education programs, the airing of jazz shows on PBS and some cable networks, and a spate of feature films glorifying the jazz mystique ('Round Midnight, Bird, Mo' Better Blues). As a result, people are beginning to get the message that jazz is not just another style of popular music but a major American cultural achievement and a heritage that must not be lost.
Preaching that message has been Marsalis' burning mission throughout his career. On talk shows, in interviews, at schoolroom seminars, he tirelessly proclaims the "majesty" of the jazz tradition and inveighs against those who, in his view, are selling it out to the forces of "commercialism." His particular bete noire has been his early idol Miles Davis, whom Marsalis once accused of being "corrupted" by his move into fusion, sparking a bitter public feud between the two men.
Such outspokenness has led some observers, like jazz critic Leonard Feather, to feel that "Wynton talks a bit too much." Even Marsalis admits that the shoot-from-the-lip style of his early years went too far at times: "I was like 19 or something, man -- you know, wild. I didn't care." He has since become a less strident and far more articulate advocate for the cause. Says pianist and composer Billy Taylor, 69: "Wynton is the most important young spokesman for the music today. His opinions are well founded. Some people earlier took umbrage at what he said, but the important thing is that he could back it up with his horn."