Everything can be practice

I played a graduation today.

It was a concert band setting, light classical and the inevitable "Pomp and Circumstance"...a LOT of consecutive quarter notes, imagine the "motor" behind the melody and that's what I was playing. This would be a tempting place to go on auto-pilot and mentally visit the Azores as we repeated the melody over and over, but something about the way we were playing the quarter notes reminded me of something from my undergrad days. My teacher Stephen Duke has an exercise that he called "The Scale and Arpeggio Exercise", the specifics of which are to deep to go into here. Suffice to say, that a portion of it involves tapering notes to silence in time.

I decided to take this few minutes of playing quarter notes and be hyper aware of my note lengths, taper, and attack. Could I make each taper the same length? Could I control the taper in such a way that there was true silence between each note? Could I EXACTLY match the tapers of my colleagues?

In playing this passage while asking myself these questions, I was able to take a simple gig in terms of technique (in terms of "fast fingers") required and make it into a valuable practice session in instrumental control (every bit as much "technique", yes?).

It can be tempting to mentally check out from time to time on simple music. But, if we look deeply enough, there is a lesson every time we pick up our instruments.

Primary Sources and Modern Inspiration

I have been slow to warm "modern" musicians. I think I can trace this attitude back to when I was in high school and I really began to get serious about listening to jazz. My father had a record collection that included Miles, Trane, Herbie Hancock, among others. By the time I was 15, I was pretty clearly ensconced in the Trane-Wayne-Sonny-Joe universe. My first year of college, I was probably the only one there who hadn't been wearing out Brecker's "Don't Try This At Home." I say this all by way of realizing that my musical world view is seen (heard?) through a lens in which most of what I hear in my head as an example of an ideal is at least 50 years old.

I have, of course, come to love the entire spectrum of music, but jazz recorded between 1957 and 1972 will always hold a place in my heart as the TRUTH.

I love to listen to many musicians on the scene today, but for study and inspiration I always find myself going back to the primary sources. How about you?

Happy New Year!

Farewell 2010...hail and well met to 2011! I spent the last hour of 2010 listening to this. I'm rather embarrassed to say that, while I've know about the Bill Evans episode of Piano Jazz for quite a while, I hadn't heard it prior to this evening. What a great conversation. The playing is absolultly beautiful and hearing Bill talk about his processes is a treat. His thoughts on structure should be required listening for all musicians.

Here's an excerpt from The Universal Mind of Bill Evans where he discusses and demonstrates more of the same.

Jazz Advice

Jazz Advice is the kind of website that I think the internet was made for. A wealth of good information from folks who know and it is interactive. You can pose questions to the hosts and they will address them with an article. I've just begun to dig into some of the stuff on the site and it is just great information. A most helpful tool.

I came across this website through Eddie Rich's blog. Eddie is a great saxophone player and you should really seek out some of his stuff. Thanks Eddie, for turning us on to this great site!

Surface Structure vs. Deep Structure Part III

Back to the discussion of Surface vs. Deep Structure in improvisation...

In the last entry, I discussed distilling a transcribed line down to its essential construction. Shown below are the original line and one solution for its "Deep Structure".

Original:




Deep Structure:

Using this raw material one can quickly see that the Deep Structure for this line involves using an Eb Major triad over the Fmin7 chord and an E9 chord over the Bb7. Both of these are quite standard superimpositions, the Eb Major outlining the upper structure of the Fmin7 and the E7 being a tri-tone substitution for the Bb7. Using this schema as our roadmap, the next step is to compose our own lines based on Warne's Deep Structure.

Some solutions follow:

As we develop more material from Warne's Deep Structure, each of the lines developed should be taken through the transformative processes discussed in the previous post.

For a very comprehensive discussion of the pedagogical value and use of transcription as well as a recommended list of solos to transcribe, I recommend this article from Dave Liebman's website as well as his video: "An Improviser's Guide to Transcription" (available through Caris Music Services). Both of these references, as well as my experiences studying with Dave have helped to solidify my thoughts on transcription and informed many of the processes described here.

Surface Structure vs. Deep Structure Part II

In my previous post, I spoke a bit about surface structure and deep structure, their linguistic implications, and how they may apply to improvisational pedagogy. In this post, I'll share some examples of how I use these techniques in my own playing and teaching.

Dave Liebman says "Learn from the fathers, not the sons" and this is a hallmark in my study. Transcription serves as the point of entry for all of my study and the transcription I do is of "Primary Sources" - more about that later. We'll start with a Warne Marsh ii7 V7 line I recently transcribed:

This line constitutes a "surface structure" statement. Many would use take this line through all keys and begin to use it over similar harmonic progressions, much the same way we would quote a line of Frost or Shakespeare. It would function very well, and give us very usable vocabulary. There is, however, much more that can be mined from this line. By using a series of transformations, in this case all based on traditional "theme and variations" technique, we can develop much more vocabulary that is original but shares the same "deep structure" as Warne's original line. Here are some examples:

We see that after some rather basic transformations, we have 5 new surface structure statements that all share the deep structure of the original line. Each of these lines can then be practiced through keys and used as vocabulary for improvisation.

Our next step is to return to the original line and really isolate the deep structure. What is the essential construction of this line? What makes it work? One solution follows:

This deep structure now becomes the basis for development of more original material through the process of transformation as discussed above. The next post will go through that process.

It is clear that approaching vocabulary development this way can result in a much deeper well of material than we would have by simply learning and using Warne's line. The beautiful thing is that all newly developed material has Warne's material as its deep structure. Because of this, most transformations will retain the strength and logic of the original line.

Surface Structure vs. Deep Structure

I have been going between two different approaches in my practicing lately. The first is a very traditional approach to learning to improvise: learning pieces of vocabulary (licks), taking them through all keys, and inserting them over appropriate harmonic situations in tunes. The other is an approach that I first came across in Jerry Bergonzi's great book "Melodic Structures" and have seen amplified by Ed Saindon. In this method, a small cell of notes is drawn from the chord scale in use, permutations are practiced and this becomes the raw material for improvisation. The cells are then rhythm-ized, "edited" and the player is left with harmonically and rhythmic sound language.

I have always had a hard time with the first approach. I never feel that I am really deeply connected to the vocabulary when I approach it this way. Using vocabulary that I have learned this way always feels forced.

The second method resonates more deeply with me. It made sense as soon as I started using it, and I feel MUCH more in control of my improvisation as well as more creative.

I have read bits about Noam Chomsky's ideas about linguistics, specifically the ideas of surface structure and deep structure and I feel that these two approaches mirror, in a very general way, Chomsky's model.

The first method is the surface structure; you are learning the sentence and using it verbatim. The second method is the deep structure; you are learning the building blocks of the sentence, understanding the linguistic transformations that take place, and using those rules to create your own sentence.

In my next post, I will post some examples of the two methods.

13 Years Ago...

I have been following saxophone player Christopher Braig's blog over the past week and it has me feeling very reflective and nostalgic. Chris just returned from attending David Liebman's Saxophone Masterclass. I was a student at this class in 1997 and reading about his experience has had me thinking.

To say that it was a profound experience would be an understatement. People throw the phrase "life-changing" around a lot these days but for me, Lieb's masterclass was exactly that. I had never before been in such close every-day contact with a master of the art. Coupled with the very no-nonsense, methodical, and logical pedagogy he preaches and practices, I came away with a very clear blueprint of what to deal with and how.

But here's the rub...

To date, I have done very little of it! Let me be clear, the processes and pedagogy I took away from Lieb still informs everything I practice, but there is so much more I feel like I should have done by now (more about that word should in a moment). As with any intense experience, it can be a bit of a crash-landing back into reality afterwards. The flame burns for a few weeks, a couple of precious months, and then the mundane-ness of life creeps back into your artistic space. I catch myself every now and then and try to re-energize by listening. It always works and I vow to start over and get it right.

This bit, the starting over, is the problem. I always feel that when I fall off the path, I must go back to square one. Often this is right, but I find myself practicing things that, for the most part I am quite comfortable with in the guise of "rebuilding the foundation".

I have been thinking about incorporating the Zen idea of "the beginner's mind" into my practice. Maybe not going to square one, but dealing with where I am in the open and accepting mind of the absolute beginner. Not as "something to get through..."

Now, about that word should...the conditional tense causes lots of problems for artists. It makes us question our work and doubt the moment. Lieb even speaks about it when he talks about practicing, here is an example.

Be honest, be open, be objective...figure out what is missing AND GO RIGHT THERE.

That is the last line of my notes from my week with Lieb 13 years ago. I have some thinking to do...

Sunday Video and some quick thoughts

There was a time that saying: "He's a West Coast player" or "He's a real Chicago Tenor" meant something very specific in terms of style, vocabulary, sound etc. Something that I hear today in my contemporaries and even in my own playing is no sense of regional identity. It is probably quite naive to think in this age of global information that there could be such drastic stylistic differences. An apprentice saxophonist today living in Nebraska has equal access to music from all geographic areas of the US as well as internationally at the click of a mouse. This is a wonderful thing for both the student and the professional, but, I do miss being able to hear a player' geographic linage in his or her playing. Today it sounds like we have all listened to the same 25 records, which of course, we have. As we move through the three stages of artistic development (Imitation, Style, Innovation) I think it would do us well as artists to undertake a study of a historic regional style of playing that appeals to us. We'll be more historically grounded in as well as discover new sources for our own vocabulary.

In that light, our Sunday Video today, features a true Chicago Tenor that I grew up listening to and that I have had the honor of performing with a couple of times...Von Freeman.

Von-Skis!!!!!

Matt Otto...

has a new book out.

If you are unfamiliar with Matt's playing, rectify the situation here. I have been loving his playing for just over a year now. He is one of the most organic improvisors I know of today as well as being one of the most generous.

The idea of an entire book on one particular scale (Harmonic Major) is very interesting. A quick look leads me to believe that there will be much to mine here.

Congrats, Matt...I'll be ordering one soon!

Chuck says it all!!!!

Things have lightened up for me a good bit.

We graduated two classes yesterday and my teaching load has dropped considerably.  Now that things are a bit lighter, I can focus on some projects I have put on the back burner, most importantly, my transcribing.  I have spoken before about how I feel about transcribing as a pedagogical tool and those feelings were reinforced today upon reading this.  What a great article!!

Thanks to Revd. Andrew for posting the link...

Kelly Bucheger's "Daily Grind"

Greetings all...

Apologies for the dearth of posts as of late.  I have two classes going into finals and they have been taking up a good bit of my thinking as of late.  I did want to share this.  Kelly is a sax player who I met several years ago at IAJE.  A great cat, great player, wonderful writer and one of the most light filled beings I have ever met.  Any time we hang I feel very energized after.  His site is chock full of good stuff but I especially like his approach to warming up and working technique. Very methodical and complete.  I have been using it in my "horn hour" and the results have been wonderful.  Nothing earth-shattering but very effective, efficient and worth checking out.

In other news, my woodwind piece: Largo, Fugue and Improvisation is set for premiere on April 20th.  Watch this space for sounds soon.

Happy Spring!

Thoughts on "Good Enough"

Darcy wrote a really nice recap of his IAJE experience, you can read the whole thing here, but there is one section that really stood out for me:

"The jazz tradition isn't about elements of style or a particular harmonic or rhythmic vocabulary, and it's not about some bullshit notion of "progress" in music, either, where "progress" = "increasing density" -- it's about having the fortitude to get out there and make a heartfelt personal statement that only you can make.  You want to honor the legacy of Bird or Miles or Trane or Mingus -- honor their searching, individualist spirit.  Study the past but make YOUR OWN music." [emphasis mine]

-Well spoken sir!

For a long time I put off making my own music.  At first, I felt it was more important to study the masters at the expense of all else.  I still feel this is a valid way to STUDY music, but not to be an active participant in the music.  I put off bringing my tunes/charts etc around to gigs and I would never program a whole set, let alone, a concert of my music.  My reasons for this were "it's not good enough".  I think I used to equate (and I still can if I'm not careful) "good enough" with "sounding like X".  I have come to terms with the fact that I will never sound like Trane/Wayne/Newk/Joe/Bergonzi/Lieb etc, but I can, will, and do sound like me.  As DJA says above, only I can do that.  

There was an interesting discussion going on in the comments section of my post "You're Doing it Wrong".  My Sister-in-Law, who is an author and has thoughts about this same type of thing, had a lot to say about the idea of "good enough".  Here is an excerpt:

 "Well I think getting to the point where I can say it is okay to be "good enough" - putting that enough on the end really helps.  But I think what helps me to get to that "good enough" point are two things - reading other writers and how they write - learning that there is no "right way" to do it - and reading many, many books and being able to see that I write as well as or better than a lot of authors who have already been published.  Although being able to see that means ignoring the emotional part of me that says how - horrible, stupid, idiotic, etc... - my writing is and getting to the more objective part that can assess those kinds of things."

What I am coming to realize is that waiting until it is good enough is important, but being objective about that point is MORE important.  It can be a double-edged sword as "good enough" can give one license to move on from or abandon the work before it is ready while "not good enough" can become a cop-out, shield to hide behind, and ultimately the sand that we bury our artistic heads in.

If we as artists put our minds into a quiet objective place, chances are we'll see that much of our work IS "good enough" and deserves to be put out there.  

As one final word about The Madness, I'll say that the most inspiring thing for me was hearing and seeing so many artists that, I'd guess have or continue to struggle with, this putting it out there.  It's time for more of us to do that.      

Interesting Interview

I came across this today.  A very well done interview with Jerry Bergonzi that covers many topics including transcription and study of the tradition.  Bergonzi explains the idea of following your passion in a way that makes a lot of sense.

From http://www.marcopignataro.com/writings.htm...

J.I.:  That brings me to my next question. You are mentioning the linkage to the jazz 

tradition and when I interviewed Branford Marsalis he made a very strong point about the 

fact that jazz education in the universities generally neglects the necessary attention due 

to the jazz tradition before Charlie Parker and players such as Lester Young, Ben 

Webster, for instance, are not taken in consideration by the young generations. What is 

your opinion on this common approach to jazz education? Where should we start? 

 

J.B.:  That’s a great question. When I started listening to Sonny Rollins and John 

Coltrane, that was my passion. Joe Henderson, Wayne Shorter, Dexter and Hank Mobley, 

Stanley Turrentine.... That was my passion, which eventually led me to listen to the older 

guys like Charlie Parker, Coleman Hawkins, Lester Young. Then I realized the lineage. 

So I always tell young players to follow their passion and if they are really passionate 

about it, they will realize the lineage all the way back, and all the way forward.  So if you 

love Joe Lovano, for example, you’ll realize that Joe Lovano loves John Coltrane, John 

Henderson and Lester Young and you’ll see his lineage all the way back. So I think that if 

you follow your passion you’ll get all of the information. I think that this is better than 

say: “Don’t listen to who your passion is, don’t listen to ‘so and so’, go back and listen to 

Lester Young”. But maybe he is not ready to listen to Lester Young. Lester Young is 

deep, you know; maybe they are not ready for that. 

 

J.I.: That’s interesting. So you don’t think that the students need to be required to listen to 

the tradition but allowed to discover the lineage by themselves.... 

 

J.B.: They will discover it. A great musician is going to discover it, there is no way that 

he can’t, it’s not possible. 

I think his comments about allowing a student to follow his passion are important.  I was trying to decide if what I wrote yesterday conflicts with this, and I don't think it does.  It is great to start with who you love. No one ever had to convince me to listen to Trane for instance.  I have always had a passion for his playing, he was one of the first tenor players I ever heard (through my dad's record collection).  Bird, on the other hand, took some prodding.  I tried to get into him early, mainly because everyone said he was important, but his playing just wouldn't grab me the way others would.  I'd come back to him every so often with the same results.  It wasn't until I was into Dexter Gordon's playing (gotten to through Trane) that Bird's playing clicked for me.    

Reading Bergonzi's interview made me think of that and reminded me that evolution is not always a straight line and is not always forward.  I like Bergonzi's approach because the student gets the information when he or she is ready for it.  I couldn't "hear" Bird's music until I was ready for it.  Once I was, I heard it and it grabbed my passion.  If I would have forced the issue, I probably would have a very unhealthy relationship with Bird's music.

As a as a teacher it is important to remember that a student is going to get more out of studying a player that he or she is passionate about while guiding him to check out the lineage that informs that player's vocabulary.

As a student, it's important to remember that it is ok to like who you like.  The artistic road is long and in a creative life one will trace connections forward and backward forever.

Primary Sources

I mentioned in a previous post that I am currently transcribing some Hank Mobely.

I was organizing some of my recent transcriptions (read: avoiding work on my woodwind piece) and as I was looking at my work here is what I saw:

 - Sonny Rollins

 - Stan Getz

 - Hank Mobley

 - John Coltrane

 - Wes Montgomery

A respectable list, of course, but also they are all 50s-60s era solos.   That time period is still considered to be the gilded age for the codification of the modern jazz lexicon, but when I compare what I have been listening to to who I am transcribing, a bit of a dichotomy appears, at least at first glance.

I am a big believer in studying Primary Sources.  While I love David Liebman's playing, for instance, I have not yet transcribed one of his solos.  It was ingrained in me pretty early in my development that "if you want to sound like "X", don't study "X" but study who "X" studied". This has served me very well in my development and, while I acknowledge that there are many schools of thought on this, this remains my modus operandi as well as the basis of my pedagogy.  

This works for me because this is where my passion is.  It took me a bit to get there.  When I really began to get serious about this music, my sun rose and set on Branford Marsalis.  I had all of his records, I begged my dad to take me to hear him whenever he came to Chicago, and I think I still have an old VHS tape of him on "Night Music" with Jools Holland and David Sanborn.  As I followed his work I began to learn of his influences.  I was already pretty familiar with Trane, Newk and Wayne.  But through Branford, I got to Joe Henderson, Lester Young, Ornette Coleman, Lucky Thompson, Chu Berry and many more.  I actually got to hang with him for a couple of hours once in Chicago, it's a funny story.  I may share it sometime.  Suffice it to say he was a very patient and generous cat to a very naive 15 year old.  But what I took away from the experience was something along the lines of, "I play the way I do because I studied X, Y and Z."  

This was deeply reinforced several years later at David Liebman's Saxophone Masterclass. 

Lieb is big on transcription and he devotes a substantial amount to time during the week to it.

This way of learning is very time tested.  I have heard accounts of authors copying out entire sections of Hemingway or Steinbeck. At the Picasso Museum in Paris, I saw some early sketchbooks in which he was clearly copying another's work.  I have also seen it first hand.  When I lived in the Chicago area, a favorite way to spend an afternoon was at The Art Institute of Chicago.  A wonderful collection, and Chagall's America Windows ranks around #3 on my reasons to stay alive list.  But as I would walk through the museum I would see student after student sitting before the masterworks copying...all disciplines transcribe! 

The way I see it is that the Primary Sources are the tea leaves and the current scene is the hot water.  You need both to make tea.  I'm going to have some now...

 

You're Doing It Wrong...

I am something of a process nut.

I love reading about process, talking about process, hearing about process and applying processes to problems.  So much, that I think it may be a problem sometimes.  I was reading the first couple of chapters of Twyla Tharp's book "The Creative Habit" (I just started, I'll report more as I finish...) and she writes about some of the fears that can potentially shut down the creative act before it begins.  I began thinking, a big one for me is "I may not do it right".  This is subtly different than "I don't know how to do it".  "Do it" implies ignorance while "do it right" implies fear.  

I can take the idea of "doing it right" to the nth degree sometimes.  There was a time when I would spend hours trying to design a practice routine and never practice because I was concerned that my routine was not "right".  I am happy to say that I have gotten past a lot of this (knock Mac...) with regards to practicing and playing the saxophone, but I still run up against it in composing.  When I start a new piece (or tune) my mind will always begin putting up parameters:  Modal thing, Rhythm Changes thing, ECM thing, Tune on a standard's changes etc.  Now, very often this is a wonderful tool and I get good results from using it but what I dislike about it is that it puts my mind into a judgmental place:  "that line doesn't fit", "it's not hip enough".  Very often, it doesn't and it's not but a teacher of mine told me that we should write the music that catches our interest (or words to that effect).  The short of it is I let myself get caught up in the world of "should" instead of the world of what is.  If I hear and like something that is of a major tonality - I should write a major tonality, not try to force the idea into a preconceived idea of what the tune "should" be.   

I will always use processes and rituals (more on that later) but I have to be careful not to force or bully the music in the guise of "following the process".

  

The Year of Hank?

I have been transcribing today.  

I have wanted to add the tune "Remember" to my rep for sometime so I dug out Hank Mobley's record Soul Station as a reference.  I last transcribed some Hank several years ago and I still go back to those solos to mine material, but I haven't really been doing any deep listening to Hank in a while.  I forgot how BAD this cat was!!!  Crystal clear harmonic language, great sound and incredible time feel.  What started as just a reference for a tune I was learning has turned into a big transcription project.  I may just go down the track list on Soul Station - it's such an incredible record.  I try not to question these types of reactions - if Hank's playing is speaking to me so much right now, I need to mine that regardless of what I had planned for transcription/practice projects.  I have found that if I follow my passion it is easier to see a big project through.  Like Branford Marsalis said, "The Music tells you..."

Now I may have to buy this...

Consistency

One of the gifts I received from my In-Laws is Steve Martin's biography Born Standing Up.  It is a great read, very entertaining and it offers some great insight to his creative process.  As I was reading it I found myself drawing many parallels between his reflections on doing stand-up and what we do as musicians.

In one chapter he discusses the confidence and edge that is developed by night after night of performing on the road and the difference between a great night and a good night.  This was the most interesting, and most relevant part for me.  He says basically that "It's easy to be great". The nights where everything clicks do come along and can be counted on to some degree.  The real challenge is being consistently good.  

I have read other accounts of this same thought; Lieb speaks about it in Self Portrait of a Jazz Artist and many other heros have voiced similar thoughts.  I find it encouraging to see that very successful creative people sometimes struggle with the same things that we do.

The idea of "just doing it" everyday and developing a long view of your work is difficult to develop but I think it is very healthy.  I do post-mortems of my most recent performance or arrangement and for a time, that glimpse would color my mood (both creative and otherwise) for several days/weeks.  To look at that work in the perspective of the "long view", I feel, gives me a perspective that is much more accurate.  The real challenge in trying to develop is to be objectively critical and I think it is much easier to do that when you are working consistently without the "striving" for a great night.