A contrafact is a song that's based on another song. In jazz, that usually means a new melody

superimposed on existing chords. That's not to be confused with a counterfactual that would

be an interesting counterfactual if jazz musicians had never embraced contrafacts.

Welcome to Strong Songs, a podcast about music.

I'm your host, Kirk Hamilton, and I'm so glad that you've joined me to talk about songs that were turned into counterfacts,

counterfacts that became known as songs, and counterfactuals that questioned reality entirely.

This is a 100% listener-supported show, and that does mean that I rely on all of you in order to be able to keep making it.

If you'd like to support the creation of strong songs, go to patreon.com slash strong songs

or make a one-time donation at the link in the show notes.

On this episode, something a little different.

We're taking a jazz standard all the way back to its Broadway roots,

then following it through the decades as it evolves alongside jazz itself.

We'll cap things off with an all-new arrangement recorded just for strong songs,

so let's get out our fake books, count off the intro, and do this thing.

Music fake books, count off the intro and do this thing. Jazz music can often seem impenetrable and alienating to the uninitiated,

not just because the music is technically complex and constantly changing,

but because it's built on 100 years of shifting subtle traditions that can often feel like they were deliberately designed

to keep people out, to put distance between the initiated and the rest of the world.

That IYK-YK-YK energy can almost feel central to jazz's whole appeal.

Hypness means that you know, and if you don't, then you shouldn't even be here.

Some amount of that energy will always surround any musical art form, particularly one like jazz, which began as a

necessarily underground art form, however it may have eventually dominated the whole of American

...