Special Guest Blog: Tribute to Lester Young

-- by James Withers

He called everyone, no matter gender, “Lady.” There was that affection for soft things, from his pork-pie hat to the notes from his saxophone. Finally, despite their deep friendship and love, he was one of the few men in the jazz world not to bed down Billie Holiday (who seemed to like her men a bit more rough trade- ish).

Lester Young and his sexuality were for many a question. Young, a master of music and words, answered the rumors with aplomb that is hard not to admire. “I never even auditioned,” when the gay rumor was put to him. A femmy straight man is always going to have his sexuality wondered about, especially in the rough and tumble world of jazz in the early part of the 20th century; however, Young cared little for the words of the chattering crowd.

Born in the same Mississippi County as Jefferson Davis, the president of the Confederacy, Young’s father was a music teacher who wanted to make his children into a little traveling band (think the Jackson 5 with a whole lot more talent). The Young children traveled and played, and Lester, as the oldest, went through a number of instruments before he eventually settled on the saxophone, and the world hasn’t been the same since.

While Young’s importance in the world of music is not up for debate, the way he lived his life is instructive. He trusted himself more than what people wanted him to be. He was told to play a certain way, but never paid attention. It wasn’t like he didn’t have any influences, and his recent biographer Dave Gelly argues Young was happiest when he and other players were just sitting around, sharing ideas, and jamming (look at that priceless smile when he lights his cigarette in “Jamming the Blues”). Yet he always wanted to sound like himself, tell his own story, share what he thought. And he encouraged others to do the same.

What queer can’t understand and love that?

Comments

[Jazz Fan]

I didn’t know all that about people questioning Lester Young’s sexuality, but I have to say I’ve always wondered about him. His ballads can be so subtle, sensual, romantic, and perfectly done—and this is my homosexism here—it seems a little hard to believe a straight man could have produced them. At least not the usual straight man.

I have a CD of his with the Oscar Peterson Trio that is achingly gorgeous; everyone should own it. But the edition I have of this CD includes at the end of it a strange little ditty which Lester apparently improvises the words to—about dirty men’s underwear. Again, some questions...