One can scarcely suppress a gasp of indignant astonishment after even a cursory perusal of Mary Lou Williams's résumé: Why is this composer, arranger, key-spanking pianist, evolving stylist, multimedia conceptualist, educator, philanthropist, and mentor to countless better-known male contemporaries not a household name? Who else could claim to have survived the T.O.B.A. vaudeville circuit, to have hung out in Kansas City with Jay McShann and intimidated Count Basie on his home turf, to have written arrangements for Benny Goodman, Jimmie Lunceford, and Tommy Dorsey, to have offered her New York home to the bebop experimentalists as they worked up their wicked brew, to have played at a Parisian club bearing her name, to have written extended suites for Town Hall and musical masses for cathedrals, to have collaborated with choreographer Alvin Ailey, and to have recorded a live concert with music's supreme enfant terrible, Cecil Taylor?Footnote ¹ A gentle giant in black music in the United States, Williams earned accolades from the biggest names in jazz, praise that was only rarely prefaced with the condescending caveat “She's good . . . for a girl.” In the testosterone-poisoned jazz scene, that sort of praise speaks volumes. Williams was that accomplished and that well regarded by her peers.

Fortunately, there are efforts to raise Williams's profile in the pantheon of jazz history, several of these through the abiding medium of the tribute album.Footnote ² The U.S. Army Field Band's Jazz Ambassadors add their respects with the CD The Legacy of Mary Lou Williams, the fifth in the Legacy series of recordings (earlier volumes presented the work of Benny Carter, Stan Kenton, Hank Levy, and Sammy Nestico). Billing itself as “America's Big Band,” the ensemble dates back to 1969, when the U.S. State Department's effort to promote national interests in the Third World by sponsoring extended tours by high-profile jazz artists was still in full swing. The moniker “Jazz Ambassadors” evokes this Cold War campaign, although it obscures the dispute over who could legitimately claim such credentials. Ambivalent about U.S. foreign policy claims when the domestic struggle for civil rights and desegregation was still inconclusive, jazz musicians took to calling themselves “The Real Ambassadors” (with Louis Armstrong singularly appointed “Ambassador Satch”), to distinguish themselves from their official sponsors.Footnote ³ Having reclaimed the title, the U.S. Army's Jazz Ambassadors have performed in various locales throughout the world, testifying on behalf of “this uniquely American music.” In the liner notes, Williams's friend, manager, and head of the charitable Mary Lou Williams Foundation, the Reverend Peter F. O'Brien, S.J., remarks, “It is appropriate that the Jazz Ambassadors play her music. It is, after all, AMERICAN music. Mary Lou Williams would be proud of this central acknowledgment by her own country. For a musician, this is even better than being put on a stamp.”

The liner notes state, “Designed primarily as an educational resource, this recording is thoroughly researched to present standard performance practices and to reflect the original intent of the composer.” The CD fulfills its instructional objective nicely, providing a short biography with endnotes, several photographs, and program notes for each of the fourteen musical selections. All but one of the pieces are Williams's compositions, the exception being her arrangement of Irving Berlin's “Blue Skies.” Listeners can easily trace the stylistic evolution of the music as the program proceeds, demonstrating the liner notes' claim that Williams “stands as the only jazz musician to ‘play’ through all of the eras of jazz.” Two eminent guest artists join the Jazz Ambassadors: Andy Bey lends his inimitable baritone to “In the Land of Oo Bla Dee,” and the gifted pianist and composer Geri Allen sits in on that tune and “Scorpio.” Allen's presence adds considerable luster and credibility to the program; as musical director for the Mary Lou Williams Collective, she knows this material well.

The musical selections range from Williams's first arrangement for Andy Kirk (“Messa Stomp,” from 1929) to 1968's “Chunka Lunka,” the 1973 rocker “Rosa Mae,” and “Act of Contrition” (from the 1975 album Mary Lou's Mass). The program thus provides an overview of the composer's stylistic breadth and highlights her particular innovations in ensemble voicings and uses of challenging melodic intervals. Although the majority of the pieces retain Williams's arrangements, six are substantially rearranged by the Jazz Ambassadors. These efforts help make the CD more than merely a pedagogical exercise and add interest for those listeners who are already familiar with Williams's oeuvre and prepared to hear it somewhat reconceived.

Williams's relatively low profile in “universal” jazz histories is symptomatic of a general elision of female instrumentalists and composers from those accounts.Footnote ⁴ One hopes that the Jazz Ambassadors' recording may assist in rectifying this situation. Still, it is worth noting that, aside from Allen's guest spot, there is but one female member of this ensemble, vocalist Marva Lewis. What made Williams so distinct among other female jazz artists was the uncompromised validation she received from her male colleagues. Although we can certainly be grateful that the all-male Jazz Ambassadors now offer their own kudos, we can also hope for a time when male validation is no longer necessary for a female artist's recognition.