[WIND WHISTLING]
[SOMBER MUSIC PLAYING]
[ECHOING]
[INDISTINCT WAILING]
[WATER DRIPPING]
[SQUEAKING]
[SCRAPING]
[MAN GRUNTING]
[KEYS JINGLING]
[BREATHING DEEPLY]
[INMATES WAILING]
[WATER DRIPPING]
[RADIO CLICKS ON]
[RADIO TUNING]
MAN: [OVER RADIO] This is WSNB Radio New Orleans
live broadcasting from the beautiful Suburban Gardens here,
where our special guest this evening, Mr. Louis Armstrong,
is back in New Orleans after ten long years.
He's come back here a big, big star.
[INDISTINCT CHATTER OVER RADIO]
...on WSNB Radio New Orleans.
And our next broadcast is brought to you by,
uh, Royal Crown Hair Cream.
That's right. Your hair'll be curling...
[INDISTINCT CHATTER AND LAUGHTER]
What a crowd here...
Yes, sir.
Our station manager handed me a paper here
that says to his recollection,
this will be the first time a colored boy will be on the radio in New Orleans.
All right, so we see they're dimming the lights here,
and, uh, our MC is approaching the microphone
to begin this evening's broadcast.
I ain't announcing no nigger man on the radio.
[FEEDBACK OVER SPEAKERS]
[FEEDBACK STOPS]
[CLEARS THROAT]
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.
I'm Mr. Armstrong.
[AUDIENCE CHEERING]
[WHISTLING]
[LAUGHING]
Hello. You like that?
I said we back home, we back home.
[INDISTINCT CHATTER OVER RADIO]
Thank you, folks. Thank you, folks.
Look out here, folks.
Now, this goes out to all you lovely people in here
and all my beautiful brothers and sisters outside on the levee.
[CHEERING OVER RADIO]
The first I'm going to play for you
is You Rascal You. You Rascal You.
Look out here, fellas, look out.
You ready? Here we go. One...
[JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING OVER RADIO]
[PLAYING JAZZ MUSIC]
[MUSIC PLAYING OVER RADIO]
¶ Boy, you know one thing?
¶ I'll sure be glad when you're dead
[ARMSTRONG CONTINUES CHATTERING OVER RADIO]
¶ Laughin' and grinnin' in my face
¶ You're trying to be in the back with my wife, you old dog
[LAUGHS]
[SCRAPING]
[ARMSTRONG CONTINUES SINGING OVER RADIO]
¶ I'll be glad when you're dead you rascal, you
[CORNET PLAYING]
[PLAYING CORNET]
[INMATES SHOUTING]
¶ I'll be glad when you're dead you rascal you
[OVER RADIO] ¶ I'll be glad when you're dead you rascal you
¶ When you're layin' six feet deep
¶ No more fried chicken will you eat
¶ You ain't no good, you rascal you ¶
[MUSIC CONTINUES OVER RADIO]
[MUSIC CONTINUES]
[CHEERING]
[ARMSTRONG LAUGHING OVER RADIO] Thank you, thank you.
Thank you. Thank you, folks. Thank you, folks. Thank you, thank you.
[ARMSTRONG SPEAKS INDISTINCTLY OVER RADIO]
[SOMBER MUSIC PLAYING]
[CORNET PLAYING]
MAN: [OVER RADIO] Ladies and gentlemen, listen to the crowd
welcoming home the wonderful Louis Armstrong in New Orleans.
[INDISTINCT CHATTER CONTINUES OVER RADIO]
MAN: This here is my sister, Miss Nora Bass.
Nora, this is Mr. Charles Bolden.
He live on First Street.
Maybe you should invite Mr. Bolden to Sunday service with us.
Nora.
You don't seem like much a church-going man, Mr. Bolden.
Mama and me, we go to...
Mama and me, we go to First Street Baptist.
Mama.
This is Mr. Charles Bolden.
This is my mama, Mrs. Ida Bass.
How do you do, Mrs. Ida...
How do you make your livin', Mr. Bolden?
I make the church music better.
[GIGGLING]
I make the church music better.
[JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING]
[PEOPLE CHATTERING]
[MAN SHOUTS]
[SCREAMING]
[GRUNTS]
[PEOPLE SCREAMING]
[MEN SHOUTING]
BOLDEN: So what do a manager do?
BARTLEY: What do a manager do?
Oh.
I take care of the business
while you take care of your music.
Your music got power. I hear it.
I seen what it do to folks.
-Take power like you got... -[SNAPS]
...combine it with a business purpose,
that's what a manager do.
[SLURPING]
You a sensation, Bolden.
You play horn louder than the day's long,
even in the hot sun.
You got women dropping to your feet, hoping to carry your horn.
The day you was born, you was kissed on the lips
with something only you got, ain't nobody else got it.
Folks hear your music,
they understand something
can't hardly put to words.
[HORSE CARRIAGE APPROACHING]
And I know how to sell what you got.
And you... [LAUGHS]
...you better listen to me.
Mmm-hmm.
How the band supposed to make more money if we gotta pay you?
I put you in front of a white audience.
[RUFFLING]
Jesus Christ, Bartley.
Yeah. [LAUGHS]
You ever done this?
I got to fly the balloon.
[RAGTIME MUSIC PLAYING]
[LAUGHTER]
[INDISTINCT CHATTER]
MAN: Boy, they don't like this one bit, huh?
[INDISTINCT CHATTER]
How long before we gotta start this...
-Oh, no, I'll be damned. -Oh, yeah.
Oh, no. Buddy.
Bartley, I don't think this is a good idea.
Oh, you'll be all right. You'll be great.
I won't fall?
Come on, you got to go now.
Yeah?
Why the fuck am I doing this?
All right.
I... Tell me... Tell me when to jump.
[SCREAMING]
Play it loud! [LAUGHS]
-Stop the cart. Stop the cart. -Whoa, whoa.
[RAGTIME MUSIC CONTINUES PLAYING]
[SCREAMING]
[GRUNTS]
Oh.
[PLAYING CORNET]
[BAND STOPS PLAYING]
[BRANCHES SNAPPING]
[BOLDEN EXCLAIMS]
[RAGTIME MUSIC RESUMES]
[CORNET PLAYING]
[CROWD SHOUTING]
Thanks for the crowd. [LAUGHS]
[DRUMS PLAYING]
Whoo!
BAND: Hey, Buddy Bolden!
[RAGTIME MUSIC CONTINUES]
MAN: Whoo!
[BANDS CLASHING]
Stop.
[CHEERING]
[ARMSTRONG CHATTERING OVER RADIO]
ARMSTRONG: Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, thank you.
I see that we have someone who can't not be here today.
Right over there.
You know, folks, they helped me get my very first cornet.
Yes, they did.
I was just a little boy back then.
[JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING]
[ARMSTRONG CHATTERING]
¶ Oh, that's it right there
¶ Every night
¶ You'll hear her croon
¶ A Russian lullaby
¶ Oh, just
¶ Just a little plaintive tune
¶ When baby starts to cry
[ARMSTRONG SCATTING]
¶ Rock-a-bye, my baby... ¶
[LOOM SQUEAKING]
[WHEELS SQUEAKING]
[ARMSTRONG CHATTERING OVER RADIO]
You all right down here, Buddy?
[LOOMS WHIRRING]
[SEWING MACHINE CLICKING]
[HISSING]
[THUMP]
[HISSING]
-[CLACKS] -[HISSING]
[SOUNDS COMBINING IN RHYTHM]
[JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING]
[MUSIC FADES]
[MACHINE WHIRRING]
MAN: [OVER RADIO] ...Radio broadcasting live from Suburban Gardens
in New Orleans.
[CONTINUES CHATTERING]
[JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING]
MAN: Evening, Bolden.
As an officer of the court,
I am duty-bound to make a periodic assessment
of the conditions in our state prisons and asylums.
As presiding judge of the Criminal Court or Orleans parish,
I am the final arbiter
of your life and liberty.
I'm here because you're here.
"Servants...
"be obedient to them that are your masters.
"according to the flesh, with fear and trembling..."
That's the way the world moves on, Bolden.
Hate your oppressors
and you'll be enslaved forever by your memories.
[GRUNTING]
-[BOYS SHOUTING] -BARTLEY: Hey!
Hey!
Kid, you gotta put 'em up or you gonna get hit.
All right, you two.
Go on. Come on.
[BOYS CHEERING]
[INTENSE MUSIC PLAYING]
-[GRUNTING] -What'd I tell you? What'd I tell you?
Come on now, come on!
[GRUNTING]
[METAL CLANGING]
[CORNET ECHOING]
[MATCHSTICK FLARING]
[SLOW JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING]
[MUSIC FADES]
BOLDEN: Come on down and see me play tonight.
NORA: And leave Mama all alone?
No. Bring her with.
She can dance like we do in church.
-What? -I know she can.
[MUSIC RESUMES]
[CORNET PLAYING]
[GASPS]
Hold this.
[GASPING]
Come on, you go it.
[MUTTERING]
God damn.
[THUDS]
[PLAYING CORNET]
Why we out here?
Women are dancing over here.
Buddy, dancing's inside.
[CHUCKLES]
Ain't never enough dancers for that.
You gotta call 'em all.
Can't you call, call 'em from inside?
So you're just gonna keep playing, huh?
You know what's between them stars?
Don't start with that shit, Buddy.
Space.
Please, man. Shit.
Ain't nothin' but time.
Yeah.
[KNOCKING ON WINDOW]
Nora.
Shh.
-Nora. -Shh.
[WHISPERING] What are you doing here?
-[GASPS] -Nora, why you don't come see me play?
A lady don't go where the Bolden band play.
Oh.
Mama said you grow up too wild for a good girl.
All that rockin' in church,
she don't like that, no.
Mama don't like your music neither.
[JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING]
BOLDEN: Hey, whoa, whoa!
Y'all ain't playin' it right.
Put your horns down. Put 'em down, put 'em down.
We, we, we, we're gonna clap it out.
Tillman, give me that, uh, give me that beat you were working with. Hit it on four.
-This one? -[PLAYS DRUMS]
Yeah, yeah, that's it. Four.
Now, Johnson.
Ba, ba, ba-ra, ba-ra.
See how that feels? Yeah, yeah, that's it.
Now, Mumford, give me time.
[SCATTING TO BEAT]
[PLAYING GUITAR]
Oh, yeah. Cornish, come on down.
-Hit two and four. -[CLAPPING TO BEAT]
Come on, Cornish.
-[CLAPPING] -Da. Da.
Let's go.
Yeah. Yeah, that's right.
Yeah.
Now, Warner.
Pay attention. Look. You're gonna hit the four.
[CLAPPING TO BEAT]
Come on, Warner.
[JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING]
Oh, yeah.
[CLAPPING TO BEAT]
Listen, listen.
That's it.
Oh!
[CLAPPING TO BEAT]
Yeah, ha.
[ARMSTRONG SCATTING]
This music about talking to each other.
Yeah. Come on.
Now y'all havin' a conversation.
[CORNET BLOWS]
-Who said that? -[CORNET BLOWS]
Why would you now...
Yeah!
Come on.
[MUSIC FADES]
[MUSIC RESUMES]
[CHEERING]
I love you!
[LAUGHING]
Mama.
Nora gonna move in with us.
NORA: Mmm.
-Yeah. That's it. -[GIGGLING]
Ease into it like that.
And you gotta, um...
Get your... Get your wrists loose.
See that.
[BLOWS RASPBERRY] Blow your lips. Like that.
-You blow... -[GIGGLES]
-[BLOWS RASPBERRY] -Yeah, like...
[LAUGHING]
IDA: I ain't raise my daughter for the likes of you.
How you fixin' to make a livin' playing your horn?
Why can't you get a real job?
[WALTZ MUSIC PLAYING]
[INDISTINCT CHATTER AND LAUGHTER]
[MUSIC ENDS]
[CHATTER CONTINUES]
[PLAYING JAZZ MUSIC]
[CROWD SHOUTING]
You dressing for church?
I don't wanna hear nothing about that First Street Baptist Church.
We're Episcopal.
[MUSIC PLAYING FAINTLY]
Yeah.
ALICE: I got a new collar for your shirt.
BOLDEN: Mama, I ain't wearing a collar. It's too tight around my neck.
Where you performing at?
Union Sons Hall.
They call it the Funky Butt when you're out playing.
Yeah, Mama. But how you know that?
I hear things.
[PLAYING JAZZ MUSIC]
No, Mama, no. No, Mama.
No, Mama, please.
Mama, please, I can't breathe with that on.
But you look good.
Can't breathe in it.
[MUSIC SLOWS]
CROWD: Hey!
Hey!
[CROWD CHEERING]
WOMAN: Bolden!
WARNER: Buddy.
Buddy! Where you at, man?
[DOOR BANGS]
There you are. I been lookin' all over.
Evenin', Warner. This here is Mavis.
Hey, Mavis.
Bolden, we got a big crowd waitin' on you, man.
We're busy now, honey.
And George Baquet, waitin' out there with his horn.
Blue-eyed tan man comin' to our neighborhood?
[DOOR SHUTS]
BOLDEN: Warner, you worried about George Baquet?
That motherfucker comin' for my job.
WARNER: Ain't nobody comin' for your job.
BOLDEN: Why you think the best paid clarinet man in New Orleans
come to the pit to play with us?
Jimmy Palao got the light-skin niggers, too.
Nobody come for your job.
He ain't so white like they talk.
-[CELLO PLAYING] -WOMAN: ¶ Make me a pallet on your floor
¶ Make me a pallet on your floor
What she doin' here?
¶ If you make me a pallet
¶ I swear your woman will never know
¶ Make me a pallet on your floor
Play your heart out, Buddy Bolden.
[INAUDIBLE]
WOMAN: ¶ Make it soft
¶ Make it easy make it flow
¶ Make it soft
¶ Make it easy make it slow
¶ When she comes in
¶ I swear she would never know
¶ That you make me a pallet down upon your floor ¶
NORA: I'm pregnant.
[BABIES CRYING]
A baby?
You can't take care of yourself.
Ain't you got one already? A little boy?
[CORNET PLAYS ON RADIO]
[CHEERING]
ARMSTRONG: Yeah!
JUDGE PERRY: Right and wrong.
Oh, it can be so confusing.
Lord wrote a book about it.
Civil societies are defined by it.
You just don't know the difference.
Niggers don't know right from wrong.
You are not in God's image.
NORA: We're gonna have a baby, Buddy.
Come on.
[SOMBER MUSIC PLAYING]
BARTLEY: King Bolden.
I want you to meet George Baquet.
Hey, George.
You come to copy me?
BARTLEY: Don't worry, Warner.
He just want to do a couple of rounds with Bolden.
[CHEERING]
[PLAYING UPBEAT MUSIC]
[CROWD CHEERING]
[PLAYING CORNET SOLO]
[CHEERING]
[TEMPO INCREASES]
Yeah!
[ALL CHEERING]
Ladies and gentlemen, this here George Baquet.
[SOUNDS FADING]
[CLATTERING]
YOUNG BOLDEN: Here, here, let me show you how to.
[CLARINET PLAYING]
Warner, come and get me!
Come on, Warner, come and get me.
Come on.
[CLARINET CONTINUES PLAYING]
[WATER DRIPPING]
It's all right. It's all right.
You'll get this.
GEORGE: Bolden, do you write your music down?
Can you write it down?
We're composing on the bandstand, you know?
So, it's... It's like we're talking to each other.
We're havin' a conversation.
I let the notes play on through, that's what I do.
Just got to listen.
I never play without the music right in front of me.
[EXHALES]
You play it the same, same, same, same, same.
I don't do none of that. I play it my way.
Every time.
And that string may, it may never come out the same
so how you gonna write it down?
How you gonna write it down, huh?
Bolden if you don't write your music down,
how's anyone gonna play it when you're gone?
You don't understand. It's a... It's a livin' thing.
It's, it's, it's... It's me and the whole band.
We, we, we just breathing together.
So you don't even know what you're gonna play.
You know, sometimes I...
[WATER DRIPPING]
I think it's better not to play anything at all.
Bolden, try playing around this.
[CLARINET PLAYING]
[DUET CONTINUES]
[WATER DRIPPING]
[CHILDREN LAUGHING]
[CORNET PLAYING]
You think Warner holding back the band?
He been working hard.
But I'm with you whatever you decide.
[MELANCHOLY MUSIC PLAYING]
[MEN SINGING RIDE ON KING JESUS]
¶ Ride on
¶ No man can hinder thee
-¶ Ride on -¶ Ride on King Jesus
¶ Ride on
¶ No man can hinder thee
¶ Ride on
-¶ Ride on - ¶ Ride on King Jesus
¶ Ride on
¶ No man can... ¶
[BOAT HORN BLOWS]
You know what this country needs?
What's that?
A negro heavyweight champ.
Jack Johnson the champ, man.
He the color champ.
White champ won't even fight him.
No.
White champ ain't gonna fight your ministry boys
and you wanna know why?
Why?
'Cause they don't find us serious.
[CHUCKLES]
Gettin' in a ring with Jack Johnson's pretty goddamn serious.
White folks...
they're gonna have to reckon with talent.
Bolden, you know about
cylinder recording?
-Cylinder recording? -Mmm-hmm.
Put your music in a machine.
[BOAT HORN BLOWS]
BOLDEN: Bartley know a man put music in a tin can.
NORA: Music in a tin can?
Yeah.
Well, how do it work?
You sound music into a machine
and the machine put out a tin can.
They'll put tin can back into the machine, and that music come out.
B...
Music in a tin can?
What it sound like?
I don't know. I never heard it.
But Bartley say it sound like money.
Sounds like magic.
[LAUGHS] Yeah.
Folks will hear my music, but I'm invisible.
I don't know, Nora.
People hearing you play and you ain't there?
[WATER DRIPPING]
Yeah.
[SOMBER MUSIC PLAYING]
[INMATES WAILING]
[SHOUTING]
[ALL SHOUTING]
MAN: This is a shit hole!
Gotta get a better place!
And I want bigger niggers next time.
[FOOTSTEPS ECHOING]
[INTENSE MUSIC CONTINUES]
This cost a dime.
Sell 50 vials, you make a dollar.
Sell 100 vials, you get $2.10.
As business gets better,
y'all do better.
There's money in recording music.
You gonna put your music in Bartley's machine?
If there's a machine play your music,
more folks gonna hear.
White folks, too.
They the ones can afford the machine.
[INAUDIBLE]
[INTENSE MUSIC PLAYING]
[WATER DRIPPING]
[INAUDIBLE]
JUDGE PERRY: Desire and desperation
are dangerous motivations, Bolden.
[WOMAN WAILS]
Humility recedes
and loyalty vanishes.
One thing stays the same.
There's always someone who can do it better.
[CROWD CHEERING]
[PLAYING UPBEAT MUSIC]
[CROWD CLAPPING IN RHYTHM]
[ALL CHEERING]
MAN: Teach him a lesson, Buddy.
[CHEERING]
BOLDEN: Yeah, all right. Thank you.
[PLAYS HOLLOW NOTE]
[WATER DRIPPING]
[INTENSE MUSIC PLAYING]
[SOFTLY] Warner, I can't find the valves to my horn.
You have the valves right here. Look.
You're fine.
I'm not fine, Warner.
[CROWD SHOUTING]
Buddy.
[CROWD CHATTERING]
Play somethin'.
He's gonna let some other motherfucker right in
and steal our shit off?
Who gonna catch us, Buddy?
BOLDEN: Cornish , Cornish, Cornish. You're supposed to be on my side.
Can't nobody do what we do, baby.
You gotta put your music in that man's machine, motherfucker.
[KNOCK ON DOOR]
[BELL CHIMING]
King Bolden. You ready?
Are you ready, Warner?
Ain't I lookin' ready?
We gonna play at Butcher Hollow tonight.
No.
It hurts my ears, man.
The sound comin' off of that wall, it's, uh,
messin' with my time, so...
We go now, we'll be right on time.
Right on the down beat.
Warner, listen to me. My lip ain't balmed, so...
So get on down there. I'll meet y'all over there.
Come on, man, we gotta go to work.
"Go to work"? Warner, you goin' to work.
You all right, Buddy?
Goddamn! Warner, get out!
Warner get out!
Get on out.
And I'll be right over.
Okay?
Well, I guess I'll see you over there, Buddy.
[DOOR SHUTS]
You were supposed to be playing my place last night.
[GRUNTS]
I heard you was playing down the street. Hmm?
You fuck up my Thursday night business.
Somebody be playing like me.
You gonna give us the next three Thursdays
for nothin'. Hmm?
Gotta pay the band.
[GRUNTS]
BARTLEY: You out your motherfuckin' mind.
You mess with that man's business,
that means you messing with my business.
[INTENSE MUSIC PLAYING]
[INAUDIBLE]
[WATER DRIPPING]
WOMAN: Hey, Bartley,
what you gonna do when you get Buddy's music in a tin can?
BARTLEY: I'm gonna sell it.
Who's gonna want to hear his music?
And I got exclusive arrangements with a white man by then.
[INHALES AND EXHALES]
Baby, you're gonna be a family man now.
You gonna have a child to provide for.
You wanna play your horn instead of plastering walls, all right.
But you gotta make it pay.
Bartley...
he need to put his music in that machine.
BARTLEY: Don't worry, baby.
We gonna get him.
Sooner or later, we gonna get his music.
[SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC PLAYING]
[CORNET PLAYS]
[JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING]
MAN: [OVER RADIO] You're listening to Louis Armstrong...
BOLDEN: [SHOUTS] Nora!
NORA: I need to get married to you, Buddy.
When you coming home?
[THUNDER RUMBLES]
[MELANCHOLY MUSIC PLAYING]
[PLAYING BLACK AND BLUE]
[PLAYING CORNET SOLO]
Hey, baby.
¶ Cold empty bed
¶ Springs hard as lead
¶ Feel like Old Ned
¶ Wished I was dead
¶ All my life through
¶ I've been so black and blue
¶ Hmm, hmm
-¶ Even the mouse -[THUNDER RUMBLING]
¶ Ran from my house
¶ They laughed at you and scorned you too
¶ What did I do, babe
¶ To be so black and blue?
¶ Mmm, I'm white
¶ Inside
¶ But that don't help my case
¶ 'Cause it
¶ Can't hide
¶ What is in my face
[ARMSTRONG SCATTING]
¶ How would it end?
¶ Ain't got a friend
¶ My only sin is in my skin
¶ What did I do, babe
Bartley!
¶ To be so black and blue?
Bartley!
[PLAYING CORNET SOLO]
[MUSIC ENDS]
Buddy!
Buddy! Buddy!
[BUDDY GAGS]
Come on.
That's what a motherfuckin' manager do.
[THUNDER RUMBLES]
[BUDDY BREATHING HOARSELY]
[THUNDER RUMBLES]
Aah!
Stupid motherfuckin' whore.
[BUDDY GROANING]
Clean him up.
[THUNDER RUMBLES]
[RAIN PATTERING]
[THUNDER RUMBLING]
Ain't you somethin',
King Bolden.
You ain't come home to me.
Don't do that to me.
[SOMBER MUSIC PLAYING]
[WATER DRIPPING]
[CORNET PLAYING]
[MAN SHOUTING]
JOHNSON: Ain't nobody playin' what we playin'.
Ain't nobody playin' what Buddy playin'.
Nobody's splitting up.
-And it just have a certain life. -[ALL CHATTERING]
Buddy showed up like black Jesus.
[LAUGHTER]
So I guess that make us his disciples.
[KNOCK ON DOOR]
I'm looking for a Buddy Bolden.
Well, shit, get in line.
You the police?
Uh, no, no. Uh, Bartley sent me.
You don't play clarinet, do you?
[CHUCKLES] No.
No, he said that
Bolden wanted to record his music. I can do this.
It come out on a little tin can, huh?
No. No, it comes out on a wax cylinder.
Ah. I got...
-"Oscar Zahn" -Mmm-mmm. Uh, Zahn.
"Cylinder recorders."
Buddy want to record our music.
Let me see that.
Buddy's scared people are gonna steal our music.
Now he wanna put it on a machine?
Make no sense to me.
[PLAYING CORNET AND CLARINET]
[PLAYING OFF-KEY]
WARNER: Why you think the best paid clarinet man in New Orleans
come to the pit to play with us?
[INTENSE MUSIC PLAYING]
So, uh... [CLEARS THROAT]
It's pretty good. [CLEARS THROAT]
Mmm-hmm.
[SIGHS]
We need to talk about exclusive arrangements, you and me.
[PLAYING SLOW MUSIC]
I'll put you in front of a white audience.
[MEN CHEERING]
You a sensation, Bolden.
When people hear your music,
they understand somethin' can hardly be put in words.
[MUSIC CONTINUES]
[INAUDIBLE]
[PEOPLE CHEERING]
[MUSIC CONTINUES]
We need to talk about exclusive arrangements, you and me.
[INDISTINCT CHATTER IN BACKGROUND]
[VALVES CLATTERING]
[SOMBER MUSIC PLAYING]
[INMATES WAILING]
Playing with George Baquet, good business.
[WATER DRIPPING]
Now how you gonna make a livin' without these, huh?
You got a wife and child to provide for.
If it is your child.
NORA: You gonna get out of bed?
Willie Cornish come by, gave me the buttons for your horn.
Why you takin' them out?
ALICE: I hear your daddy every time you play.
I hear your daddy every time you play.
Your daddy die young to give you strength.
[WATER DRIPPING]
[DOOR OPENS]
[CREAKS SHUT]
[HEAVY BREATHING]
[NORA GRUNTING]
[SCREAMING]
[GROANING]
[GRUNTING]
[JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING]
[SCREAMING]
[CROWD CHEERING]
BOLDEN: My daddy gave me the power of my lungs.
That's how I play like I do.
[SCREAMING]
[CROWD SHOUTING]
[MAN COUGHING]
[SCREAMING]
[BABY WAILING]
ALICE: Your daddy was sacrificed for your gift.
What gonna happen to your baby?
You gonna lose your gift.
Where are you now? Huh?
[UPBEAT MUSIC PLAYING]
[MUSIC CONTINUES]
Brothers and sisters...
[MUSIC CONTINUES]
...I come to you today to talk about returning home.
Back to Africa.
[MUSIC CONTINUES]
We will never be Americans.
It's time to return home.
[MUSIC CONTINUES]
[CHEERING]
-OFFICER: Now, let's go. -We have the right to a peaceful protest.
[MUSIC CONTINUES]
[GRUNTING]
Get out! Get out! Go!
[PLAYING BROKEN NOTES]
[PLAYING HALTINGLY]
You, come here! You don't move!
-MAN: Hey. Hey. -Keep your hands off of me!
[WOMEN SHRIEK]
[INDISTINCT SHOUTING]
[SHOUTING]
MCMURPHY: This is all on Bartley.
This here's your enterprising nigger's boy, Bolden.
Caused a riot outside that dance hall he was playin' at.
He's serious trouble.
This is all on Bartley.
[FOOTSTEPS ECHOING]
JUDGE PERRY: Shut Bolden down?
MCMURPHY: Shut him down. Just stop that boy playing.
A bold nigger is dangerous.
[BRASS BAND PLAYING]
What you lookin' at?
[CROWD WHISTLING]
[BRASS BAND PLAYING]
[CHEERING]
[MUSIC FADING]
[GROWLS]
[PLAYING OFF TUNE]
Come on.
Get on out of here.
Motherfucker! Get off of me!
[BOLDEN SHOUTING]
Cornish, where's Warner?
BOLDEN: You made all your crowd crazy, caused a riot.
You will stop playing your goddamn horn.
That's what the motherfuckers want. That's what you'll do.
[HISSING]
[SCREAMING]
What we gonna do here?
MAN: What's wrong with the man?
CORNISH: He gone lost his mind.
Look, he ain't no Bolden,
but we can always get Bunk Johnson to play with us all.
[BIRDS TWITTERING]
NORA: Ain't you got work?
You gonna get out of bed?
[CORNET PLAYING FAINTLY]
[WALTZ MUSIC PLAYING]
[INTENSE MUSIC PLAYING]
No. No, no. Leave me!
[BOTH GRUNT]
[INTENSE MUSIC PLAYING]
[MUSIC PLAYING FAINTLY]
[JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING]
[SHOUTING]
[MUSIC FADES]
[MUSIC CONTINUES PLAYING]
[CHEERING]
[CROWD EXCLAIMS]
Horns up, motherfuckers.
[WATER DRIPPING]
[SOMBER MUSIC PLAYING]
JUDGE PERRY: Ambition...
born of vanity.
This is America, Bolden.
How far you think you're gonna get?
Destroy the nigger's soul,
and they will destroy each other.
[CROWD CLAMORING]
Turn around.
Number 9 to win.
Your valves are right here.
You fine.
[TRAIN HORN BLOWS]
I'm leaving you, Buddy.
Mr. Warner gonna take us up to Chicago.
I'mma help them settle up there.
Can see if I can get some work.
Maybe in one of the stockyards.
[CROWD CHEERING]
[SLOW JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING]
¶ Well, I though I heard Buddy Bolden call
¶ We started in the summer we didn't end till fall
¶ You walk in my room
¶ But when you leave, you will crawl
¶ Oh, that's what Mr. Bolden called...
[MUSIC FADING]
[MUSIC PLAYING FAINTLY]
[CHEERING]
[MAN CONTINUES SINGING]
BARTLEY: Are you ready?
Are you ready?
[CROWD CHEERING]
JUDGE PERRY: Destroy men's souls
and they will destroy each other.
BARTLEY: The best boxers in the world
in the ring of fire!
[CHEERING]
¶ Yeah
¶ And then take it away
¶ I thought I heard him say
No, Bolden. Step back, man.
¶ ...Buddy Bolden repeat
¶ I can play it hot or I can play it sweet
-BOLDEN: I'm going... -You ain't going in!
-Get out of here. -That's my song!
[CONTINUES SHOUTING]
¶ That's what I heard Buddy Bolden repeat ¶
[CONTINUE SHOUTING]
[GRUNTS]
[INTENSE MUSIC PLAYING]
[LOOMS WHIRRING]
[WHEEZES]
[LOOMS WHIRRING]
That one there.
[SOMBER MUSIC PLAYING]
[CROWD SHOUTING]
[GRUNTS]
[GASPING]
[FAINT SHOUTING]
[WHEEZING]
[CHEERING]
Get up! Get up!
Get your black ass up!
-Get up! -Bartley!
You look at me, Bartley!
You lost! You lost on our deal!
Bartley!
[CHUCKLES]
You're gonna stop killing us.
BARTLEY: It ain't me, baby.
It ain't me.
[PEN SCRATCHING]
[BARTLEY GAGGING]
[GASPS]
You have no past.
No history.
No culture.
You come from nothing.
I come from the same place as you.
There is nothing
the same for you and me.
And that ain't never gonna change.
You come from nothing, raise your head,
get people to gather like you're some kind of...
You think we're gonna let that happen?
Hmm?
Let you incite a godless crowd?
You don't like what I played on this?
No one ever will.
[INTENSE MUSIC PLAYING]
Power that is not righteous
must be destroyed.
[BOLDEN SCREAMING]
[KEYS JINGLE]
[FOOTSTEPS RECEDING]
Oh, thank you, folks. Thank you, folks.
Thank you, thank you.
Thank you, folks. Thank you, folks.
So good to be back home.
You know, when I was a little boy wearing short pants,
I lived with my sister and my mama in the back of town.
Yeah. Yeah, that was my neighborhood.
[BOLDEN SHOUTING]
I was delivering coal to the district.
[CROWD EXCLAIM]
Boy, yeah, they don't talk about a district no more, now, do they?
[LAUGHS]
Yeah. Yeah, I think I remember seeing you there, Jackson, yeah.
You had a big hat on though covering your face.
[BOLDEN SHOUTING]
Anyway, this one morning, I was rolling through that particular neighborhood,
and I heard a sound that I never heard before.
I thought, "Man..."
[BOLDEN SHOUTING]
And, folks, I wanna tell you something.
He was playing the saddest tune anyone hear.
Oh. Mmm-mmm.
I looked at him, I said, "Mister."
I said, "Why you playing so sad, why you playing so sad a tune?"
And he looked at me and he said,
he said, "Son,
"today they took away the king. They took away the king."
[DOOR OPENS]
I said, "The king?"
I was just a little boy, you know.
"The king?" I said, "Who's the king?"
He said, "'Who's the king?'"
"Buddy Bolden." He said, "King Buddy Bolden."
That's what he told me.
[AUDIENCE CHEERING]
So this one's gonna go out to King Buddy Bolden,
the first king of New Orleans music.
[JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING]
¶
[MUSIC ENDS]
[JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING]