The musicians who took advantage of that freedom knew they were making noble music. Swing boasted Duke Ellington, Earl Hines and Count Basie, the rarest of rarities--magnanimous men within a democracy. The same men were largely dependent on that democracy for their nobility. Within what other regime could the son of a coachman--the grandson of a slave!--become a duke?

But after decades of high and popular music--indeed music worthy of a Core class some 50 years after the fact--came bop, the dizzying complexity of which (and the fact that you can't dance to it) allowed rock, via R&B, to become the popular music. Magnanimity, the crown-virtue of swing, yielded to rock's rebelliousness--which is not a virtue at all, but the weak, ugly stepchild of courage. Nowadays, the glorious mixed-regime-in-music has devolved into plain democracy-in-music: those concerned with musical excellence via jazz can still subsist (democracy is colorful, after all), but the regime is ruled by today's popular music, a low medley of anthems to equality.

Comes now Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, after the Fall, promising to reclaim the lost virtues of yesteryear. Some have flocked to their sect--several of the aforementioned culture warriors, for instance. But they are, sadly, misled. Big Bad Voodoo Daddy has taken what was low, danceable and popular from the swing era and amplified it. Their "Big Bad" has replaced a claim to nobility--replacing magnanimity with pomposity; their swagger has replaced a justly dignified comportment; and their music follows in tow. Which is not to say that they are unenjoyable--they are, in my opinion, the best of the contemporary swing bands, and one can certainly dance to their music. They are as fine a choice for Springfest as any other band. But there is a certain melancholy hidden in their music as well: the unfulfilled, perhaps unfulfillable, promise of a second coming.

Hugh P. Liebert '01 is a social studies concentrator in Eliot House. His column appears on alternate Wednesdays.