It is time therefore to interfere with stupidity in matters of taste and judgment. We learn little or nothing from habit excepting repetitive imitation. I should, for the benefit of you as reader, interpose here a little information from the mind of Francis Picabia, who was until the war conspicuous among the cubists, upon the subject of dada-ism. "Dada smells of nothing, nothing, nothing.
What matters, however, are not theories, but works: so what of the works of Jazz? If Stravinsky is to be claimed for the movement, Jazz has its master: it has also its petits maîtres Eliot, Cendrars, Picabia, and Joyce, for instance, and les six. All five have their places in contemporary civilization: and such talents are not to be disposed of simply by the present of a bad name.