But Taylor's old broadcast outlets at CBS and NPR have virtually abandoned jazz, and "America's classical music" is hard to find on America's airwaves. Wynton Marsalis, the indefatigable leader of Jazz at Lincoln Center, has taken up the mantle as the spokesman for a new generation of jazz. But Taylor may still be the last, best optimist his music can have.
He knows, better than anyone, that his credibility as the public face of jazz derives from his long history as a working musician and as a man of unwavering integrity. In a world that has more than its share of misfits, Taylor has always been a straight arrow.
A longtime advocate for what he calls "America's classical music," the 83-year-old Taylor will give his farewell concert Thursday at the Kennedy Center.
(Helayne Seidman For The Washington Post)
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"He's not a tricky person," says drummer Grady Tate. "Those of us who might have sworn wouldn't do it when he was around. He carried himself in a way that made you want to give him respect."
And now, after all he's gone through, Taylor is looking for one last measure of respect, if only from himself. That's why, after the stroke that had him wondering if he'd ever play again, he's had the keyboard delivered to his hotel room. That's why, just months shy of turning 84, he's practicing like a kid again, trying to make his right hand fill the night with the magic of old.
"He's made what I consider a miraculous comeback," says Jackson. "I think he's playing great. In my opinion, his musicality hasn't suffered a bit.
"But he's disappointed. Billy could play all those arpeggios, he had all those chops. Now, he's being forced to think differently."
The same sweet touch is there, the same rich chords, but Jackson hears a deeper, more personal voice emerging from the piano: "It's him."
All the practice, all the long nights and endless roads have finally led back to where everything started for Billy Taylor. He'll tell us why those glorious bebop days with Bird and Dizzy still matter, and better yet, he'll sit down at the piano and show us why. And for one last night, he'll hold the grand, enduring story of jazz in his hands.
