100 books like What a Wonderful World

Billie Holiday’s musical soul mate was Lester Young, the iconoclastic tenor saxophone player who had a sound like no one else in his generation. His sound was so unique he had a profound influence on future saxophonists; he called his disciples “my children.”

In this book, Douglas Henry Daniels has written a well-researched, beautifully rendered portrait that captures the essence of Young, the musician with whom Billie Holiday most loved to sing. The end of the book, showing the culmination of a life of substance abuse and societal conflict, is especially poignant.

One of the treasures of American show business is Hazel Scott. A child prodigy on piano who attended Julliard, a headliner at Café Society thanks to Billie Holiday’s mentorship, and eventually the wife of Adam Clayton Powell, Jr., she was the first African American to host her own television show, “The Hazel Scott Show,” in 1950.

A confrontation with the House Un-American Activities Committee prompted the cancellation of her network show, which led her to go into a kind of exile in Paris where she set up a salon that saw as guests everyone from Lester Young to the Beatles.

Karen Chilton vividly documents the life and times of the singer in this book. I love the book because it captures the artistry of a true original. In the future, more attention should be paid to Hazel Scott, who has become show business history’s forgotten genius.

Starting in the 1930s and going through the 1950s, one of the centers of jazz in the United States was in Manhattan on 52nd Street between Fifth and Seventh avenues. Clubs like the Famous Door, Three Deuces, Onyx, Kelly’s Stable, and Club 18 would become legendary in jazz circles. Jazz royalty, from Count Basie and Dizzy Gillespie to Coleman Hawkins and Billie Holiday, played in these clubs.

In his chronicle of 52nd Street, Arnold Shaw provides a fly-on-the-wall account of what it was like to play and visit the clubs based on interviews (some of them quoted at length) from musicians who worked the clubs to entertainment figures who frequented them. Billie Holiday is a presence throughout the book from her early beginnings when she was not accepted because of her singing style to eventually becoming one of The Street’s main draws.

One of the important figures in the world of jazz for many years was Leonard Feather. He started his career as a jazz writer—writing the first profile of Billie Holiday—but eventually became a songwriter and producer. He produced Billie Holiday’s highly successful 1954 European Tour called Club USA.

Well into his career, he collected this book of essays about the jazz figures he knew well: Louis Armstrong, Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Lester Young, Dizzy Gillespie, Miles Davis, and Ray Ellis, among others. I really like his essay on Billie, whom he knew so well she became his daughter’s godmother because he was able to relate events about which he knew because he was in the room with her when they happened.

If you want to meet jazz luminaires first-hand, trust Leonard Feather to provide the introduction. 

It is not possible to have any serious grasp of America in the 20th century without knowing and understanding Louis Armstrong. His story covers a great deal of the Black experience, from the exodus out of the South to the racism of the North. His life exposes the homogenizing machine that is the entertainment industry. And it shows what happens when a genius refuses to accept tragedy. This is the definitive biography of a great American.

I highly value Condon’s ability to describe the daily anxiety and desperation of the poor jazz musicians, who constantly struggled to find work and pay the rent. He does so with great good humor. He tells a good story and he’s got a million of them, including a few about gangsters, but mostly about the many great jazz musicians like Bix Beiderbecke, whom he worked with and knew well. His many terse stories prove that brevity is the soul of wit. His dialogue is worthy of Ben Hecht—he’s good at wisecracks. I was sorry when the book came to an end.

Terry Gibbs played vibes (vibraphone) with several of the most famous big bands during the Swing Era, than formed his own small groups, then led big bands himself starting in 1956. Steeped in Swing, he also held his own with the modernists. Perhaps his most amazing accomplishment was putting together his Dream Band, which recorded at least 68 selections, arranged by all the best arrangers in the business, in four different clubs in Hollywood, mostly in 1959. It was a 'dream band' because although the big band era was over, all the best musicians on the West Coast wanted to play in this one because the music was so much fun. Gibbs was in his 90s when his book came out; he knew how lucky he had been, and his book is full of joy and love.

New Musical Figurations is a profile of AACM composer Anthony Braxton. One of the best-known AACM musicians, Braxton is also one of the most influential: while writing hundreds of compositions and touring the world with his many ensembles, he has also found time to teach some of the best composers and improvisers of the twenty-first century, including Taylor Ho Bynum, Mary Halvorson, Steve Lehman, and Tyshawn Sorey. Braxton continues to compose and perform today, and New Musical Figurations explores the ideas and philosophies that motivate his creative practices and draw new generations of listeners to his music.

Everyone knows that jazz is intimately and inextricably linked to Africa, but no book does a better job of breaking down just how strong this relationship is. Pianist Randy Weston and bassist Ahmed Abdul-Malik are pretty well known, but Kelley uncovers lots of fascinating new material on both musicians and their transnational connections. Drummer Guy Warren and vocalist Sathima Bea Benjamin were new to me and both turned out to have incredible backstories. Kelley is as compelling on the jazz scenes of Cape Town and Lagos as he is on the more familiar haunts of Chicago and New York. It was such an exciting historical moment, with one African nation after another breaking free of their colonial subjugators. The jazz world was bursting with creativity. Anything seemed possible. Kelley knows the jazz world inside and out and writes beautifully.

Dyer is a gorgeous writer, and this book, which takes its title from a hauntingly beautiful 1947 song, is one of the most musical pieces of prose I’ve ever read. This paragraph captures both his voice and penetrating musical insights: 

“If [Thelonius] Monk had built a bridge he’d have taken away the bits that are considered essential until all that was left were the decorative parts–but somehow he would have made the ornamentation absorb the strength of the supporting spars so it was like everything was built around what wasn’t there. It shouldn’t have held together, but it did, and the excitement came from the way that it looked like it might collapse at any moment, just as Monk’s music always sounded like it might get wrapped up in itself.”