Many jazz players quit. Many others sensing disaster, herded themselves toward the elephant burial grounds of ‘show biz’ and television, choosing to end with a fate night giggle rather than a bang of whimper.
Looking back on that bleak period, although its depressing effects are still with us, a certain pattern og hope emerges. There were and are many signs of life. It seems now that Jazz Music, rather than having died, had merely gone underground for a while in order to survive — much like certain beautiful desert flowers which go through severe drought in a semi-dormant state, waiting for the next rain. Things eventually began to blossom a bit. In the stone canyons of Manhattan good solo piano players sprouted here and here ; cautious bass and guitar duets took root in the timid corners of restaurant — not much at first, but something.