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It came out of the dark heart of America, the aura, the smoke-filled essence of jazz, the music of joy, abandon, yearning. New cadences, accents, pulsations. Nights of improvisation and hot rapturous jazz.
New York's 52nd Street, Swing Street, the mecca. It was to be William P. Gottlieb who would capture with his own instrument, the camera, the soul of this jazz, its voices, its prophets, its players, Bill who would become the chronicler of the golden age.
- Eve Berliner, Editor
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