Possibly Mr. Jobs was mindful that the Reinhardt Centennial had occurred on Jan. 23, just a few days before the iPad presentation. But probably not. The legacy of Django Reinhardt enjoys a currency that those of comparable jazz icons do not. In recent months, the centennials of both Lester Young and Art Tatum came and went almost unnoticed, but Reinhardt is omnipresent—more so than during his lifetime. Tribute concerts have been a way of life in New York and around the world for the past decade. There are also new tribute albums and a new book.
Prez and Tatum, alas, are popular only with a minority of music fans. Then again, they are remembered, and so many other musicians are not.
The past few years have been good ones for Reinhardt's legacy: The French label Fremeaux finished its epic "Intégrale Django Reinhardt" series, which ultimately consisted of more than 800 tracks contained in 20 double-disc CD sets; Oxford University Press published Michael Dregni's definitive biography, "Django: The Life and Music of a Gypsy Legend"; Tony Bennett sang his own lyrics to "Nuages," Reinhardt's most famous melody, calling the result "All for You"; and Woody Allen lovingly mythologized Reinhardt in his 1999 film, "Sweet and Lowdown."
Listen to clips of songs by Django Reinhardt:
Within a few generations, jazz improvisation would become a given, but back then, soloists like Reinhardt refused to take it for granted. Every solo he played sounds like he's battling to justify the very concept of improvisation. Reinhardt was never completely removed from his beginnings as a street musician, and he always sounds like he's trying to entertain an audience, rather than just to amuse his fellow musicians. He knew how to make an entrance and he knew how to leave us laughing. If we're still using the iPad, or its spiritual descendants, even for half as long as we'll be loving the music of Django Reinhardt, Mr. Jobs will have really accomplished something.
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