Although Thelonious Monk wrote the tune – ‘In Walked Bud’- for his good friend Bud Powell, I have often imagined Bud Crawford making his way to the ring to Monks’ tune. The version of ‘In Walked Bud’ below, recorded in 1968, has some wonderful scat singing from the great jazz singer, Jon Hendricks. Improvised jazz singing – sometimes called vocalese — is where the voice is used to imitate an instrument, or when words have been put to a well-known jazz standard. I have often wondered what Bud Crawford knows about jazz, and whether he listens to it and is aware of who the great exponents were – and I wonder if he has ever mused on the similarities both art forms share.
For me, Terence ‘Bud’ Crawford isn’t just a boxer; he’s a jazzman – improvising and riffing with the finesse of a jazz great. Crawford’s brilliance isn’t solely in the punches he throws but in the spaces between them—the feints, the subtle shifts in rhythm, the precise timing that echoes the syncopation of a jazz tune. Crawford is one of those rare boxers who thrives on the downbeat, where his unique timing and anticipation transform his craft into a form of physical jazz.
In jazz parlance, the ‘downbeat’ typically refers to the first beat of a measure, where the strongest accent or emphasis is usually placed. It’s the beat that marks the beginning of the rhythmic cycle and sets the tempo for the music. The downbeat is crucial because it serves as an anchor for the rhythm, providing a point of reference for musicians as they navigate through complex time signatures and syncopated rhythms. It was no coincidence then that the jazz magazine ‘DownBeat’ – founded in 1934 – was named the way it was. The magazine managed to position itself as a cornerstone of the jazz world, reflecting the importance of the publication’s role within the jazz community.
Much like a jazz musician transitioning from melody to improvisation, Crawford effortlessly switches between orthodox and southpaw stances, weaving together punches that leave his opponents bewildered and off-balance. His footwork is the rhythm section, driving the beat and setting the tempo—he can turn it up or down in a heartbeat, just as a drummer can change the dynamics of a jazz tune. In Crawford’s case, every pivot, every slide, and every shuffle, is a beat in the intricate composition of his fights. The link below highlights these qualities – particularly the exquisite timing of the uppercut that put Spence down in Round 7.
Crawford, along with many other brilliant boxers in history, with his impeccable timing and ability to fight on the downbeat, embodies this intricate dance between jazz and boxing. His ability to anticipate, to counter with precision, and to create moments of brilliance out of thin air is reminiscent of a jazz musician’s ability to improvise on a familiar melody, transforming it into something entirely new. A good example would be Coltrane’s astonishing version of “My Favourite Things or Sonny Rollins’s deconstruction of ‘Alfie’s Theme’ from the soundtrack of the movie starring Michael Caine, released in 1965.
For me, Crawford’s connection to jazz runs deeper than mere metaphor. Like jazz, boxing has long been a vital outlet for Black expression in America, particularly for the oppressed. Jazz, as the unique American art form, emerged from the Black experience, offering a voice to those silenced by systemic oppression and racial prejudice. Boxing, too, became a stage for Black athletes to assert their strength and their dignity. In Crawford, these two worlds converge, reflecting the same spirit of creativity, freedom, and resilience. The troubles and traumas of Bud’s upbringing have been well documented, and that he overcame them to become rich and successful is a testament to his talent, his will power, his hard work, and his determination to succeed. We acknowledge that Bud’s now in the twilight of his career with one or two more fights before he hangs up the gloves. Will he try to unify or go for undisputed at 154 — or will he challenge himself one last time in a mega fight with Canelo Alvarez? Time will tell. I suspect he’ll go for Álvarez because it’s the outrageous thing to do.
In a sport often defined by brute force and aggression, Crawford is a breath of fresh air, a virtuoso whose mastery of the sweet science transcends mere athleticism. With every dazzling display of skill and every audacious combination, Crawford reminds us why boxing, like jazz, is not just a sport—it’s an expression of the human spirit.
Finally, I know Bud has his detractors, as all boxers do. I’m also aware we can list many other boxers in the modern era who share, if not surpass, Bud’s skills, and who can also be celebrated as true ‘jazzmen’ in the ring – fighters with uncanny abilities; reflexes, rhythm, timing, intelligence, and improvisational skills.
Making lists is always fraught because of those you leave out — but I’ll throw a few names out there just for fun. Muhammad Ali, Sugar Ray Robinson, Willie Pep, Carlos Monzón, Roberto Durán, Pernell Whitaker, Kostya Tszyu, Roy Jones Jr, Naseem Hamed, Floyd Mayweather, and Vasiliy Lomachenko. I’ll even include the ‘Drunken Master’ – Emanuel Augustus – for he must surely be one of the greatest exponents of free Jazz to have ever graced the ring. Floyd Mayweather maintained for years that Augustus was his toughest opponent and that his talent was “unbelievable.”
I’d be delighted to have readers mention boxers not included on my list – fighters who deserve to be called: The Jazzmen of Boxing.
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