No. 8: JAZZY SUITS: THE PRISTINE TAILORING OF A CHAOTIC SOUND

Fashion and music go hand in hand.

It's a constant dialogue, but it used to be a much louder conversation.

Post-Beatles — because all music history is really just pre and post John, Paul, Ringo, and George — identity and sound co-mingled.

Punks had the hair.

Mods had the bikes.

Hippies had the smell.

Prior to probably the turn of this century, you tended to wear what you listened in in more of a correlated way.

Music doesn't have that sense of identity anymore.

Jazz is almost always on the POMO—TECT ™ office turntable. Typically on the funkier side.

What was so cool about that era was that the music they made didn't dictate a sartorial style.

It was completely revolutionary. Yet their appearances were sharp. Suited. And booted.

They followed rules in what they wore.

They broke rules in what they made.

Just look at Miles Davis and Dizzy Gillespie and all jazz greats who saw dressing up in perfect tailoring as part of the job — not because they wanted to stand out. But because they perhaps knew the sounds would speak for themselves.

Jazz is a unique form of music because you're never quite sure if it's good.

It has to hit you viscerally.

It can't explain itself.

And you can't explain it.

It works if you feel something.

Because it was always supposed to make you move.

Just try not to fuck up your shoes too much.