Novi Sad Jazz Festival: Dorman Laszlo

I was born 1944. in Stare Moravice, Backa where I started primary school and finished it on Palic. I went to high and musical school in Subotica and completed my education at Musical Academy in Novi Sad. I played in Philharmonic, big youth bands, Dixieland dancing ensembles and folk music orchestras. 1974. I was the author of Jazz music show on Novi Sad Radio station and was the member of Novi Sad Days of Jazz managing board. My first contact with photography was finding an old Agfa box 6 x 9 camera at the attic of our house when I was ten. I was following Jazz festivals almost from their beginning in this area. Slovenians first broke the ice in former Yugoslavia on Bled, than they found their own Festival in Ljubljana. Belgrade Festival exists since 1970, and Novi Sad since 1979. a serial of not disregardable jazz manifestations. “Novi Sad Days of Jazz” were canceled in 1989. because of money troubles, Belgrade Festival had a few years break concerning wars and international blockade, but meanwhile both manifestations were revived. Further more, during the hardest times, one more Festival named “Jazz, the improvisable music” was established in Kanjiza. I was news and photo reporter in Kepes Ifjusag for almost twenty years and during those period numberless articles and photos about jazz were published there. I had also published my articles and photos in Magyar So and Uj Symposion. I have successfully defended the original written form of the word jazz, which was threatened by some linguists who wanted it to to become dsessz. Regardless the fact that it's visually ugly, it is even in American English pronounced with ”Z” and not with “S”.

Since 1998. I've fallen into disfavor on Novi Sad Radio, I was accused as war instigator and “shut down”. My Jazz Music Show was restricted.

Since 1993. I have been living in some sort of exile in Piliscaba, Hungary, working Hungarian Radio program editor.

Never the less, I miss good jazz and photography more and more, as well as jam sessions and good times we had at Novi Sad Festival. Those common improvisations we've been listening at Studio 24 basement, old Serbian national theater basement or narrow basements of Youth Tribune are irreparable. This atmosphere wasn't known in Belgrade, Ljubljana, Zagreb or any place where jazz festivals were held.

One of Novi Sad Jazz Festival main characteristics was jam session lasting until tomorrow morning. Night was to short so we barely noticed daylight coming trough the basement windows, reveling bags of people coming or going on the market. We usually went home not until late morning. In several occasions, morning after the last day session, I made whole bucket of coffee for basement cure in my place, after which we scattered until next year. Everybody took his path, musicians as well as us.

I remember the first important jazz event in Novi Sad quite well; even I personally wasn't there.

Louis Armstrong, at the Vojvodina Stadium, thirty and some years ago. At the time I just came to Novi Sad and have no money for anything, even for the ticket. Newspaper said Sachmo will perform for 25 000$. Great, he gets 25 000$, and I have nothing, in any vault. Never mind, I thought, there's plenty of room around the stadium, Ill listen from there. But as the night fell my rage became bigger and bigger, and at the end I was so made with Sachmo that I decided not to listen to his concert. Even now I feel sorry for that decision of mine. Title of my show was High Society Jazz, Jazz, Jazz! the song he played with Bing Crosby.

I think often of that event. As well as of Jovica, dear movie operator Jovica –who was so ashamed of his last name, so we called him Fitsgerald. Jovica Fitsgerald. At the beginning of fifties, instead of soviet military marches and domestic revolutionary songs jazz was playing from the loud speakers in his hall. Then general manager came. What's that? Capitalistic music? That won't do! He broke the 78 vinyl record on his knee. Jovica turned without a word and smashed all the revolutionary records. It's very clear who was right – Jazz survived!

I wonder what became of those who left the country in those troubled times? Some of us are still here in the neighborhood, like me, others went far to the West or overseas. Tikmajer, Toba, Aksin, Laura and others?

And what of those who definitely moved to the other shore? Aleksandar Rukavina, uncle Aca, Novi Sad Days of Jazz Chairmen, small man with a big hart. Stevan Radosavljevic, former conductor of a big orchestra, great gentleman. Than James alias Bogdan Dimitrijevic, broken voice sax player or Kiki, Joseph Kovacs, who had gypsy as well as Jewish blood, big joker. Or Chat Baker, who played here in Novi Sad, just a few months before he died. (And than flew away from some Amsterdam balcony, just like a pigeon.)

And others: Eduard Sadjil – Edika (Belgrade), Miroslav Sedak – Bencic (Zagreb), Petar Ugrin (Ljubljana).

About many others I don't know if they are playing at the eternal jazz fields jet…

I don't go to jazz concerts any more. Following from that I don't do photographs of musicians either. Once it was a part of my life, but I can't stand contemporary amplifiers. I think people don't go to jazz concerts or clubs to listen to the music from loudspeakers. I like the authentic sound of instruments that are extremely rare these days. The truth is that all sound engineers are deaf. Nobody calls me to concerts anymore, nobody sends me to make photographs, and I still don't have my own means to go. That's the situation between jazz and me at the moment.

I remember one Taktons, sound engineer gathering for territory of Ex Yugoslavia, on which Radio Novi Sad musicians played Glenn Miller's number at the opening night. All the expert present, gathered from all over the country, were fascinated with sound. They wanted to know who projected and placed the sound equipment. Somebody told them a secret; there was no sound equipment, musicians were playing live standing in light half circle, without microphones.

I gathered all of my memories and brought them to this exhibition. My friends. Jazz – that's us together.

Laslo Dorman

p r o d u c t i o n

c c n s