In March of 1994, Daniel "Danny" Barker passed away. Danny was a guitarist and banjoist from New Orleans who had made it big in New York City with the Cab Calloway Band in the 1930s. One of his last requests before he passed was that he not be given a jazz funeral. Danny had witnessed jazz musicians playing for one of their own on the way to the gravesite many, many times as a youngster, only to become disenchanted with what he had seen and heard lately. Young brass band players today, unaware of and indifferent to the history and solemnity that traditionally accompanied the deceased to his final resting place, dance and prance to the beat of a different drummer. The old-time jazz funeral, like the old-time musicians themselves, is vanishing.
         What, then, is a traditional New Orleans jazz funeral
         To begin at the beginning, it seems certain that the roots of jazz funerals reach back to Africa, where some societies to this day use similar processions in mourning and celebrating their departed. These roots lay dormant, or nearly so, during the long years of African American slavery, not to gain new vigor until after the Civil War and Emancipation. Following the war, social-aid clubs and benevolent societies were established to assist the former slaves with medical bills, life insurance, and other forms of social support that would otherwise have been difficult or impossible for them to obtain. Twenty-five cents a week would ensure a member a proper burial.
         Many of the clubs supported brass bands, which played for parties and weddings as well as for funerals. The brass bands flurished from the 1880s through the 1920s. In the 1930s, the Great Depression severly hampered their activity, but neither their music nor the playing of it for funerals passed from the scene. Indeed, there are musicians still alive who are veterans of that time. I recently had a brief but fruitful telephone conversation with Harold "Duke" DeJean, the leader of the Olympia Brass Band. DeJean began playing with the Holy Ghost (church) Brass Band under the directorship of Pinchback Tureaud and remembers playing funerals for such social-aid clubs as the Vidalia, the San Jacinto, and the Tulane, as well as for the Jeunes Amis benevolent society. Like many older musicians, he describes the brass bands of the 1930s as having a much higher level of musicianship than the younger brass bands of today.
         The rise of private insurance companies made the various social-aid and benevolent clubs virtually obsolete; although some still exist, their function is primarily in support of social activities. Yet even as the clubs faded for the most part into distant memory, the jazz funeral remained a vital part of the New Orleans black community. That this should be so says a great deal about that community and its uniqueness. Many other places had social-support clubs, and many of those clubs undobtedly had bands. Only in New Orleans was a style of music so intertwined with daily life and death as to give not only its sound, but eventually its name, to the local funerary custom (although the term jazz funeral is a suprisingly late coinage, dating only to the 1930s).
         Rejoice When You Die is photographer Leo Touchet's documentation of several jazz funerals. The photos were taken from 1968 to 1970 at the funeral processions of clarinetist George Lewis, bassist Alcide "Slowdrag" Pavageau, drummer Paul "T-Boy" Barbarin, and Leon "Nooney-Boy" Shelly, a member of one of the social and pleasure clubs. The time frame is important, for it was in the 1970s that the jazz funerals began to change irrevocably from their traditional form. Touchet's photographs show the end of an era.
         The photos represent the two main aspects of the traditional jazz funeral: the somber journey to the gravesite (Part 1) and the exuberant return from it (Part 2). They are images of people experiencing and acting out a cultural memory that their ancestors were never allowed to express formerly. In viewing them, one can almost hear the melodic strains of old Protestant hymns echoing through neighborhoods of shotgun houses and corner barrooms.
         In a traditional jazz funeral, the band meets at the church or funeral parlor where the dismissal services are being conducted. After the service, the band leads the procession slowly through the neighborhood. In a recent film, Jazz Funeral: From the Inside, Milton Batiste, the lead trumpeter in DeJean's Olympia Brass Band, observed that "as the procession heads through the neighborhood, you might see a black wreath hanging on the door where the deceased lived or worked." the mood is generally somber, and the musical selections are taken from Christian hymns such as "Free as a Bird" or "Just a Closer Walk with Thee" commonly sung in black Protestant churches. While playing the hymn(s), the musicians indulge in virtually no improvisation.
         The distance the band walks today may be only a few blocks, since burial sites are not always within walking distance of the church or funeral parlor. If the cemetery is nearby, the band accompanies the procession to it. When the interment ceremony is completed, the band leads the procession from the gravesite without playing. When a respectful distance from the site has been reached, the lead trumpeter sounds a two-note preparatory riff to alert his fellow musicians. At this point the drummers begin to play what has become known as the "second-line" beat.
         The band now sheds its solemnity in favor of music more conductive to lively, even joyous, activity on the part of family, friends, and other celebrants -- the group affectionately known as the "second-line." Out come umbrellas, many of them elaborately decorated, that seem to be more about styling and profiling than protection from nature's elements.
         When a returning grass band is heard in the distance, that sound announces the impending arrival of a public celebration. Those who are willing and able will fall in behind the band, next to the band, between the band members, affecting the body language of a dance, a strut, a "booty bounce" to the music of the second-line beat.
         One of the more popular songs of choice is "Didn't He Ramble?!" The title and the lyrics are suggestive of a free-spirited man who reaped what he had sown and had a good time doing it. Another favorite, of course is, "When the Saints Go Marching In." Legend has it that "The Saints" was a regular feature at prayer meetings and Sunday services; one day some of the churchfolk heard a jazz band playing it returning from a funeral, and it was never sung again as a part of their church services.
         Playing a very important role in the brass band is the grand marshal, who may be a band member or a fmember of the same social or benevolent club as the deceased. His demeanor -- head erect, expression solemn, dressed in a black tuxedo, white gloves, black hat helf respectfully in his hand while taking slow but measured steps -- is crucial to the dignity of the procession on the way to the gravesite, and his jauntiness and energy set the tone for the band and the dancing second-liners alike on the return journey that annouces to the community the good news that another soul has gone on home.
         Much of this has changed, or is changing, now. Although the jazz funeral is very much a part of New Orleans' black culture, some of the younger brass band players are either unfamiliar with or indifferent to the traditional music. It is common to hear bands play popular songs of the day in place of the longtime standards handed down from the older musicians, and the stately march to the gravesite is becoming a thing of the past: often now the livelier music begins at the church door. The newer bands generally are not attached to social and pleasure clubs. Moreover, whereas jazz funerals were traditionally for musicians and club members, today they are for anyone who can pay for it.
         Since the 1970s, with the influence of the pop-funk music scene, brass bands like the Dirty Dozen, the Soul Rebels, Pinstrip, Algiers, Rebirth, and many other continually forming groups have carried the torch. Although the younger players do not always honor the music of the past, tradition and custom in New Orleans have themselves always been about improvising. The traditional jazz funeral expresses a recognition that there is something not only to mourn, but also to celebrate, even in death; the same truth applies to the ongoing metamorphosis of the jazz funeral custom itself.