SWING

For something delirious to read in a spare moment, you might try Panassie's new opus, "The Real Jazz." The word "moment" is used advisedly, as you can't read it for more than a minute straight without laughing your head off or throwing it in a wastebasket.

Panassie is a much maligned person, and not without justification, but he does have his virtues. The trouble is for every paragraph of descriptive writing, which is where he really shines, you have to wade through morasses of decidedly cock-eyed opinions.

The man has done jazz a real service, particularly in Europe, but he doesn't have much knowledge of the subject, for all his love of it. You can blame it on his typically French argumentative, anti-traditional mind. Panassie has discovered jazz not so much for jazz's sake as for the sake of founding a coterie.

If your tastes are fairly well advanced, you will undoubtedly find much of value in "The Real Jazz." If you are a beginner, however, your best bet would be Charles Edward Smith's "Jazzmen."