Bill Moore. The name seems like a joke on itself, a homophone inviting literally “more” to be said about it, while resisting that urge through its own frequency. The number of birth certificates, census records, coroners’ reports and gravestones for “William Moore” or “Bill Moore” makes a daunting prospect when it comes to research. I’m interested in the trumpeter Bill Moore, but there are several players with that name, playing different instruments and kicking up more hay around my desired needle.
What I find says little and repeats it often: that Moore worked with the California Ramblers in all of their pseudonymous forms as well as with Ben Bernie, Jack Pettis and many other bandleaders. His unique position as a light-skinned African American “passing” in White bands also comes up frequently, without any insight into whether that fact mattered as much to the man himself as it does to history. Discographies confirm that he played with a variety of bands through the Swing Era, with a 1950 Billboard review praising his “Armstrong-inspired” trumpet. There’s not much more to learn about the man, even less when it comes to the musician. Bill Moore is very hard to find.
The sound of Moore’s trumpet during the twenties takes us past the realm of historical cyphers and gigging sidemen. At that time Moore was a distinctly pre-Armstrong player. His tone is far removed from the rich, brassy sound now virtually synonymous with “jazz trumpet.” It’s narrower and more piercing, like a needle rather than a sword, well suited to tying an ensemble together rather than cutting its own path.
Even through the haze of acoustic records, Moore’s trumpet has a buzzy edge to it, different than the cool quality of his contemporary Red Nichols, the broad, warm tone of Paul Mares or Johnny Dunn’s crisp flourishes.
Moore also frequent played with a mute. Brass players often point out how mutes can be used to hide intonation problems (with King Oliver a favorite example) but the possibility of expressive choice is worth considering in Moore’s case. Moore’s pinched sound was put to good use on a series of sessions throughout the late twenties.
Moore also chatters rather than blasts, maybe to hide an uneven tone, maybe to show off fast fingers. Either way, he lets this brash instrument; seemingly designed for sweeping bursts, speak in tight, concentrated patterns.
Armstrong experimented with what Brian Harker called a clarinet-like approach early on his career. Nichols used clever, clipped lines throughout his long career. Jabbo Smith and Roy Eldridge frequently employed double-time, with the boppers later adding their own phrasing and harmonic ideas.
Moore’s chattering is more disjointed, based in a pre-Armstrong aesthetic that emphasized contrast and variety over continuity and flow. It’s also more of an ornament, as Moore sticks closer to the melody than most modern jazz musicians would ever care to (Moore knows how to have fun with even the silliest tune, rather than simply throw it out). The emphasis on contrast, paraphrase and mutes indicates that Moore might have been listening to “novelty” trumpeter Louis Panico.
Listening to Moore reveals more than session dates and personnel listings. It points to influences, musical choices, textures and a vocabulary. In other words, a distinct musical voice at work. Neither a genius granted immortality nor a hack deserving complete neglect, after generations of brash, brassy trumpeters in the Armstrong mode, Moore’s style might seem like a wholly “new” experience (even if it originated decades before most readers were born).
Jazz purists might dismiss Moore based on his lack of swing, his limited improvisational skill or some other interesting but ultimately illogical bit of teleology. Given his post-ragtime, pre-Armstrong soundscape, criticizing Moore (and his contemporaries) for not sounding like later players is like chastising Renaissance paintings for having too many religious references: rather than admiring the work in its historical context, or a part from the critic’s context, everything is measured up against one stylistic endpoint, with all “great” works leading up to or issuing from it.
Not that many even take the time to dismiss Moore based on his playing. As is often the case with the earliest chapters of music history, discussion beyond the session cards and matrix numbers and right to the sound of the music appears infrequently. Maybe reacting to the music itself seems too subjective. Maybe now that Moore and his colleagues are no longer around, maybe the only thing left to do is ensure an accurate record of the past. Hopefully when the record is complete we’ll remember why it was assembled in the first place.