Not until 1926 did they get a faint idea of real jazz, when I decided to live in New York. In spite of the fact that there were a few great dispensers, [such] as Sidney Bechet, clarinet, William Brand, bass, New York's idea of jazz was taken from the dictionary's definition--loud, blary, noise, discordant tones, et cetera, which really doesn't spell jazz music. Music is music. Regardless of type, it is supposed to be soothing, not unbearable--which was a specialty with most of them. […] Very often you could hear the New York (supposed-to-be) jazz bands, have twelve-fifteen men; they would blaze away with all the volume they had. Sometimes customers would have to hold their ears to protect their eardrums from a forced collision with their brains. Later, in the same tune, without notification, you could hear only drums and trumpet. Piano and guitar would be going but not heard. They others would be holding their instruments leisurely, talking, smoking reefers, chatting scandals, et cetera.

Musicians of all nationalities watched the way I played; then soon I could hear my material everywhere I trod, but in an incorrect way, using figures behind a conglomeration of variations sometimes discordant, instead of hot-swing melodies.