George Frazier (1911-1974) was an original. And an occasional pioneer. He was the first writer to have a jazz column in a major city newspaper when he authored Sweet and Low in the Boston Herald during the winter of 1942. Eventually he moved on to a more wide ranging weekly column for The Boston Globe. Although often derided and harshly criticized because of his totally politically incorrect positions on major issues (for example, Woman’s Liberation—though he did make it onto Nixon’s “enemy list.”), Frazier lives on in my memory primarily because of his ability to write scathingly, sarcastically beautiful prose. And, more importantly, introduced me to the world of “duende.”
In his words: “It’s not easy to explain…except to observe that when someone or something has it, we feel icy fingers running up and down our spine….it’s not measured in terms of surpassing skills…nor does it have anything to do with honor or integrity or valor…just as John Dillinger was all duende while the mafia, at least since Lucky Luciano is not…duende isn’t merely class, or just style either…yet I cannot offhand think of anyone who has duende who does not also have style…and to say that duende is merely charisma or panache or flair is rather to demean it, for while it is certainly all those things, it is the nth power of them.
In Frazier’s world Sinatra had it, but Joey Bishop most certainly did not. Fred Astaire yes, Gene Kelly no. According to Frazier, “It was what Ted Williams had even when striking out, but Stan Musial lacked when hitting a home run.”
Now there’s no doubt that duende is entirely subjective. (Cardinal fans, for example, might turn Frazier’s quote on its head.) But subjective or not, his columns struck a chord that remains as I think about duende in terms of people in my world–people I know or have met, some I’ve read about or seen on screen or in concert.
By now you undoubtedly know where I’m going with this. Yep. Paul Newman had duende but Robert Redford doesn’t.
Ghandi had it, Che didn’t.
I can’t quite decide whether Matt Damon has duende, but Ben Affleck doesn’t get close.
George Clooney has duende.
Morgan Freeman worked together with Clint Eastwood in three movies, but only Freeman has it, no matter how much Eastwood’s acting or directing are touted by the media. (Actually, in my opinion he only directed one really good movie:Unforgiven. And, as much as I love jazz, Bird was an abomination. Even his “Boston” movie, Mystic River, despite terrific actors, was blown away by Gone Baby Gone which incidentally was directed by Ben Affleck and also starred Morgan Freeman)
Lauren Hutton had and still has duende, but Heidi Klum with all her cheek-kissing “auf widersehens” won’t get there. (A shame since I have a picture of my son Matt with his arm around her at some function. Or maybe the shame is that his armwasn’t around Hutton.)
Michael Moore reinvigorated documentary film making and I enjoy most of what he creates, but never in a million years will he have duende. Neither will John Stewart or Bill Maher as quick on their feet as they are—after all, Stewart is gracious, classy and fun but doesn’t have it and however quick, clever, and political Maher might be, he is a bombastic twit. But Stephan Colbert has duende.
As does Michelle Obama, while her husband, despite many attributes, simply does not. (And I’m not saying that just because he dances like a white guy.)
Sometimes you can both have it and not. Clarke Peters in his role as Lester in The Wire has duende. But not as Albert Lambreaux in Treme. Makes me wonder whether he has it as Clarke Peters.
John Lennon had duende but Paul McCartney, nah.
Susan, my partner has it, I don’t.
Obviously I could continue to traipse through the list of public figures, politicians, writers, actors, musicians (Wynton Marsalis has duende, Kenny G., ha! ) and singers (Billy Holliday had it as well as Sarah Vaughn, but not Ella) but this notion, this concept, this duende is in the eyes of the beholder.
What do your eyes tell you?
When people tell you how young you look, they are telling you how old you are.
Cary Grant