For a change, I had a good weekend of practice. I was sort of worried, because my piano lesson was cancelled on Wednesday, so I didn't have a chance to look at the ensemble's new songs through the experienced eyes of my instructor, and on Thursday and Friday, I couldn't do anything with any of the new material. On Saturday, I gave up, and on Sunday, on a whim, I thought I would at least try to play along with the records: Frank Sinatra singing Wave, and Clifford Brown doing Joy Spring.
That proved to tip the scales in my favor. While I'm still unsure of a few of the chords, I got the rhythm and tempo of both songs down, which makes it easier to fake when I don't know the chord or I get lost in my fingerings, or whatever.
Tonight I have nothing to deter me from a full couple of hours' practice, and the same holds true for tomorrow, although I will hopefully be able to schedule a makeup piano lesson in there to get just a little clearer image of what I should be playing as an ensemble player. (Yes, it seems dumb to have to state the obvious, but solo piano is different from ensemble piano, and ensemble piano doesn't sound like anything by itself, which is one of the reasons why it is so hard for me to practice.)
Monday, September 29, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Jumping into the deep end
Over and over again...
Last night at jazz ensemble, we worked on three songs, two of which were completely new to the group and the third having been merely glanced at last week. They were Four (the one we glanced at), Wave, and Joy Spring. For three weeks now, I've had a hard time figuring out why I'm the only one who can't keep up with the chord changes. It sucks because not only am I completely behind the beat (and the rest of the band), I sound terrible. This morning, as I was running over Wave in my head, I started to think of other songs that I play for my own personal enjoyment and I suddenly realized what the difference is between what I play by myself and what we play in band: the songs I play have fewer chord changes, fewer key changes, and what changes the song has are spaced farther apart.
Take a song like Someday My Prince Will Come. It changes every bar, but that's it. And what's more, there are no key changes (at least, no changes that last long enough to be recognized as key changes). But if you take a song like Joy Spring, it goes through a ii-V-I progression in the space of two (quick) bars, then changes key and does it again, then changes key again and does it again, and man, it just keeps going like that. No wonder I can't play it. I go from having to play one set of chords in one key (maybe two), with changes spread over four bars to having to play two sets of chords in three, four, five (or maybe more) keys over two bars or so.
What's happening? Our instructor is throwing us in the deep end of the pool, that's what. No point in standing at the wading end, not even getting your hair wet, is probably what he figures. Hard songs make you play better. So, in you go. Splash!
My dad taught me to swim at the YMCA. I was never a good swimmer, but I could move about in the water, and once I learned to float, I stopped panicking any time I happened to swallow a little water. So, I'm going to do now the same thing I did then: swim as best I can, and keep afloat. Eventually, I'll be able to play these chord changes in a second nature fashion. I may even find a diving board this weekend and jump into the deep end by myself.
Last night at jazz ensemble, we worked on three songs, two of which were completely new to the group and the third having been merely glanced at last week. They were Four (the one we glanced at), Wave, and Joy Spring. For three weeks now, I've had a hard time figuring out why I'm the only one who can't keep up with the chord changes. It sucks because not only am I completely behind the beat (and the rest of the band), I sound terrible. This morning, as I was running over Wave in my head, I started to think of other songs that I play for my own personal enjoyment and I suddenly realized what the difference is between what I play by myself and what we play in band: the songs I play have fewer chord changes, fewer key changes, and what changes the song has are spaced farther apart.
Take a song like Someday My Prince Will Come. It changes every bar, but that's it. And what's more, there are no key changes (at least, no changes that last long enough to be recognized as key changes). But if you take a song like Joy Spring, it goes through a ii-V-I progression in the space of two (quick) bars, then changes key and does it again, then changes key again and does it again, and man, it just keeps going like that. No wonder I can't play it. I go from having to play one set of chords in one key (maybe two), with changes spread over four bars to having to play two sets of chords in three, four, five (or maybe more) keys over two bars or so.
What's happening? Our instructor is throwing us in the deep end of the pool, that's what. No point in standing at the wading end, not even getting your hair wet, is probably what he figures. Hard songs make you play better. So, in you go. Splash!
My dad taught me to swim at the YMCA. I was never a good swimmer, but I could move about in the water, and once I learned to float, I stopped panicking any time I happened to swallow a little water. So, I'm going to do now the same thing I did then: swim as best I can, and keep afloat. Eventually, I'll be able to play these chord changes in a second nature fashion. I may even find a diving board this weekend and jump into the deep end by myself.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
A site I wish I'd found earlier
I say I wish I'd found it earlier, but it's likely that had I done so, I wouldn't have known what to do with it. Anyway...
Here's a link to a site that for the most part does nothing but rank jazz albums.
http://home.austarnet.com.au/petersykes/jazz100/
They do it by genre, all time, decade, new, classic, etc., so it is a very useful set of listings. Conspicuous in her absence is Helen Merrill, who didn't even make the top 200. That can only be considered an oversight of some kind. It's funny to me how the top 10, top 25, and to some extent, the top 100, are (relatively speaking) easy to agree on. There is a lot of uniformity with this list, the Penguin jazz recordings guide core collection and crown collection, typical lists of jazz standards, and so on. And I'd have to say that compared to the Penguin core collection, this list is much closer to how I would probably rank many of these recordings (at least, as far as the ones I've heard goes).
I find these types of lists quite helpful, because the depth of jazz recordings continues to overwhelm me. It's been about a month since I've added any significant amount of recordings to my collection, (though there was the Art Tatum and Charlie Parker stuff I picked up cheap) and even though I've plenty of titles I want to add, I've been more reluctant than usual, simply because I don't feel like spending money in this economy and because I could probably afford to spend more time with the recordings I do have. I think whatever happens, I'll try to hold off until I take my annual trip to Las Vegas (October 19-23), then plan on picking up a pile of stuff before the Christmas holidays, giving me something to focus on over the long vacation. Jazz ensemble class will be wrapped up by the end of November or so, giving me some more time to focus on listening as opposed to playing. (Sometimes it's hard to strike a balance between those two - sounds like material for a future entry to me.)
Here's a link to a site that for the most part does nothing but rank jazz albums.
http://home.austarnet.com.au/petersykes/jazz100/
They do it by genre, all time, decade, new, classic, etc., so it is a very useful set of listings. Conspicuous in her absence is Helen Merrill, who didn't even make the top 200. That can only be considered an oversight of some kind. It's funny to me how the top 10, top 25, and to some extent, the top 100, are (relatively speaking) easy to agree on. There is a lot of uniformity with this list, the Penguin jazz recordings guide core collection and crown collection, typical lists of jazz standards, and so on. And I'd have to say that compared to the Penguin core collection, this list is much closer to how I would probably rank many of these recordings (at least, as far as the ones I've heard goes).
I find these types of lists quite helpful, because the depth of jazz recordings continues to overwhelm me. It's been about a month since I've added any significant amount of recordings to my collection, (though there was the Art Tatum and Charlie Parker stuff I picked up cheap) and even though I've plenty of titles I want to add, I've been more reluctant than usual, simply because I don't feel like spending money in this economy and because I could probably afford to spend more time with the recordings I do have. I think whatever happens, I'll try to hold off until I take my annual trip to Las Vegas (October 19-23), then plan on picking up a pile of stuff before the Christmas holidays, giving me something to focus on over the long vacation. Jazz ensemble class will be wrapped up by the end of November or so, giving me some more time to focus on listening as opposed to playing. (Sometimes it's hard to strike a balance between those two - sounds like material for a future entry to me.)
Thursday, September 18, 2008
The jigsaw puzzle of jazz
There really is no such thing as a hard jigsaw puzzle. I'm not talking about those novelty puzzles, now, the ones with no edges, or the ones with the repeated, same tiny pattern with all the pieces cut the same, or the puzzles with a picture on both sides, or the puzzles that include eight extra pieces that don't go in the solved puzzle, or the 3-D puzzles, or any of that lot. (Yes, I know a lot about puzzles.) For the sake of this argument, we're talking about your run-of-the-mill, 500, 1000, 2000, 5000, whatever-piece, straight-up, no-nonsense jigsaw puzzle.
So, I'll start again.
There really is no such thing as a hard jigsaw puzzle. The pieces that are in the box can be combined to form a picture, a representation of which appears on the box the pieces come in. The pieces go together only one way. As long as you don't lose any of the pieces, no matter what, eventually, the puzzle can be completed. It may take a long time, or it may only take one wintry, rainy afternoon with you and a close friend working on it while sipping brandy tea. She or he will take the blue ones with edges, while you take the brown and red ones with edges, then, you'll have the edges finished and most of the pieces turned over, then, it's just a question of persistence and time.
Just like jazz.
Last night at jazz ensemble, we worked on all of two songs, neither of which I could play, due to the rapid chord changes that I was completely unfamiliar with. The first, "Have You Met Miss Jones", we'd started working on the week before, and I'd just forgotten about it. There are a couple of key changes in it, and they just throw me, especially if I'm trying to think of altered chords with 6th's and 9th's to throw in. It was hopeless. My soloing wasn't terrible, but it was aimless and boring. I was glad when we decided to try something different. Unfortunately, the next song was "All the Things You Are". It is very similar in that the chord changes are pretty straightforward, but there are a couple of key changes that just threw me. Again, I couldn't play much of anything, I didn't embarrass myself too much with the soloing, but it was tiring and I didn't sound very good. By the end of the class, I felt like I'd been through a ringer.
And from there to my weekly piano lesson. I told my instructor what had happened, and he was amazed that I hadn't done much better. "All the Things You Are is my favorite, my absolute favorite," he kept saying. "I can't play it," I said. "Of course you can," said he. So he told me, just play the third and the seventh of each chord. Low and behold, if you do that, you only have to move one note through almost every single chord change, and you progress right down through a series of basic, very pleasant sounding, extremely easy to play, ii-V-I progressions. The lightbulb went on over my head, and my instructor and I put on our sunglasses. "I'll be damned," I muttered, "Another piece of the puzzle and it fits perfectly."
Week by week, piece by piece, I've been putting the puzzle together. All those progressions I practiced blindly all of a sudden reveal their intent, their wisdom to me. All of a sudden, I know why a minor scale works where a major scale doesn't, or I see why repeated moving down a specific number of tones (depending) brings about three key changes in complementary tonalities, or why, if you break down a chord to its two color tones, it becomes easier to play and crisper sounding. And guess what: All that practice of ii-V-I progressions comes right out of your fingers when you start to think through the chord changes. Your brain really does go, "We know how to do that. Here's the muscle and nerve movements you've been looking for all night. They're right here." And, wham! You freaking playing the piano, dude!
I went from tired and depressed to energized and relieved in the space of ten minutes. Just like when you can find that one corner piece that links those two sections of edges you've about finished, so you can fit your blue and brown sections together and have your puzzle about two-thirds done. A couple more nights like last night, and then I'll just have the clouds and blue sky to fill in, and then my puzzle will be finished.
If only...
So, I'll start again.
There really is no such thing as a hard jigsaw puzzle. The pieces that are in the box can be combined to form a picture, a representation of which appears on the box the pieces come in. The pieces go together only one way. As long as you don't lose any of the pieces, no matter what, eventually, the puzzle can be completed. It may take a long time, or it may only take one wintry, rainy afternoon with you and a close friend working on it while sipping brandy tea. She or he will take the blue ones with edges, while you take the brown and red ones with edges, then, you'll have the edges finished and most of the pieces turned over, then, it's just a question of persistence and time.
Just like jazz.
Last night at jazz ensemble, we worked on all of two songs, neither of which I could play, due to the rapid chord changes that I was completely unfamiliar with. The first, "Have You Met Miss Jones", we'd started working on the week before, and I'd just forgotten about it. There are a couple of key changes in it, and they just throw me, especially if I'm trying to think of altered chords with 6th's and 9th's to throw in. It was hopeless. My soloing wasn't terrible, but it was aimless and boring. I was glad when we decided to try something different. Unfortunately, the next song was "All the Things You Are". It is very similar in that the chord changes are pretty straightforward, but there are a couple of key changes that just threw me. Again, I couldn't play much of anything, I didn't embarrass myself too much with the soloing, but it was tiring and I didn't sound very good. By the end of the class, I felt like I'd been through a ringer.
And from there to my weekly piano lesson. I told my instructor what had happened, and he was amazed that I hadn't done much better. "All the Things You Are is my favorite, my absolute favorite," he kept saying. "I can't play it," I said. "Of course you can," said he. So he told me, just play the third and the seventh of each chord. Low and behold, if you do that, you only have to move one note through almost every single chord change, and you progress right down through a series of basic, very pleasant sounding, extremely easy to play, ii-V-I progressions. The lightbulb went on over my head, and my instructor and I put on our sunglasses. "I'll be damned," I muttered, "Another piece of the puzzle and it fits perfectly."
Week by week, piece by piece, I've been putting the puzzle together. All those progressions I practiced blindly all of a sudden reveal their intent, their wisdom to me. All of a sudden, I know why a minor scale works where a major scale doesn't, or I see why repeated moving down a specific number of tones (depending) brings about three key changes in complementary tonalities, or why, if you break down a chord to its two color tones, it becomes easier to play and crisper sounding. And guess what: All that practice of ii-V-I progressions comes right out of your fingers when you start to think through the chord changes. Your brain really does go, "We know how to do that. Here's the muscle and nerve movements you've been looking for all night. They're right here." And, wham! You freaking playing the piano, dude!
I went from tired and depressed to energized and relieved in the space of ten minutes. Just like when you can find that one corner piece that links those two sections of edges you've about finished, so you can fit your blue and brown sections together and have your puzzle about two-thirds done. A couple more nights like last night, and then I'll just have the clouds and blue sky to fill in, and then my puzzle will be finished.
If only...
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Reduced booze = increased music
An alternate etymology, according to a jazz history book I'm reading, says that "on the wagon" refers to the jazz musicians in the early part of the last century, who, in order to ply their art had a horse pull a flatbed wagon around town with a band on it, playing tunes as it plied its way through the street. The junior musicians were (apparently) often stuck with this task, so the senior musicians would stay back at the speak-easy and - of course- drink. So, if you were "on the wagon", you couldn't drink, and obviously, for jazz musicians who drank too much but suddenly stopped drinking, it would make sense to say, "I'm on the wagon."
I mention this because I started cutting down on my own booze intake this week, simply so I could get longer, more coherent practice time in. I was therefore struck by the amazing coincidence of Stanley Bing (who's blog I'm a big fan of) making the same resolution - albeit for a different reason - at the same time I did. What are the odds?
Unlike ol' Stan, however, I'm not going completely dry. Something about that whiskey with big ice cubes in a crystal glass on the end of the piano, just keeps me going.
I mention this because I started cutting down on my own booze intake this week, simply so I could get longer, more coherent practice time in. I was therefore struck by the amazing coincidence of Stanley Bing (who's blog I'm a big fan of) making the same resolution - albeit for a different reason - at the same time I did. What are the odds?
Unlike ol' Stan, however, I'm not going completely dry. Something about that whiskey with big ice cubes in a crystal glass on the end of the piano, just keeps me going.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
What jazz has done to me
In the last six to eight months or so, I've noticed a pretty profound change in most aspects of my life. I've been making a concerted effort not to worry about things, and I've actually been able to keep from worrying! That doesn't sound like much, but I've never been able to do it before. Now, I recognize the truth in what Montaigne and Mark Twain both said, paraphrased: My life has been filled with troubles, but most of them never happened. I can't remember the specific instance and moment when I realized worrying was a waste of psychic energy, but I remember I made a conscious effort to force myself not to worry about something (having to do with work), and I remember that the very thing I was going to worry about didn't even come close to happening.
I mentioned this to Mrs S the other day. She said she noticed too that I have been more relaxed, less likely to get upset at little things, and not getting as upset as I used to when I did get upset. I told her I was glad she noticed, because I had some notion it was just me. But no, she was in agreement. Then she pinpointed what I had failed to draw a correlation to: You've gotten calmer (she said) as you've gotten deeper into your music.
That's it! I was always relaxed and ready to deal with the world when I was deeply absorbed in music before, but I attributed that to youth and the fact that the onset of my chronic hereditary hypertension had not begun yet. As I became a responsible, older citizen of the world, and developed hypertension and the effective and ineffective strategies that go with coping with high blood pressure and everyday cares, worries, and tribulations, I chalked it up to adulthood. Now I'm finding, I don't need it. If I've got my music, I can put everything else in perspective. Priorities change, attitudes improve, and all the things that bothered or irritated me before just fade into the distance where I don't even recognize them. I don't miss them, because I don't even know they are there. And I feel good about everything.
This is liberty. It would sound trite to say I owe it all to jazz, but I think the two are in a symbiotic, synergistic relationship. Jazz makes me focus specifically on something that I think is important. That stimulates and excites me, and that allows me to tolerate the world at large when it becomes less than hospitable. People see and feel the change in me, and the mutual good feelings in the world grow, and they grow directly and all around me.
That's maybe why I'm a happier person now than I can ever remember being. Things are in perspective, and it allows me to live a better life.
So, like I said a couple days ago, that's the path I'm on. Where I'm going, I couldn't say. Maybe heaven, maybe nirvana, maybe ignorant bliss, who can say? But, I'm a willing traveler, and if you're reading this, welcome to my journey.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Me in the Wall Street Journal
I made the Wall Street Journal today, kind of, sort of.
Today, a letter in the auto column, tomorrow, a stipple pen-and-ink portrait on page 1!
I'll finish my thoughts on the jazz road (promised in yesterday's entry) in another entry tomorrow.
Today, a letter in the auto column, tomorrow, a stipple pen-and-ink portrait on page 1!
I'll finish my thoughts on the jazz road (promised in yesterday's entry) in another entry tomorrow.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Where I'm At
My recently purchased 8 CD set of Charlie Parker, plus Volume 8 of the Art Tatum Group Masterpieces arrived just before the holiday weekend. So, that was all I listened to all weekend. I'm pretty sure both can go on the Yoity Tot list, for now, but I don't think Art Tatum will be able to stay there once I get farther along in my jazz music education. The depth of the Charlie Parker set is stunning, and I don't think I've ever had as much fun listening to music as I do listening to that.
I worked on altered chords in a 12-bar blues format. I got a little less than halfway around the circle of fifths in different keys, so I still have a lot of work to do.
I got my drum machine out and played everything with it this weekend, including scales, drills, the blues above, and all the songs that we've played in the ensemble so far. (My Funny Valentine, How High the Moon, Blue Bossa - from my audition, Donna Lee) I also used it to learn I Could Write a Book. I think that helped me more than anything. It will certainly make me a better ensemble player as I am never at liberty with the time and rhythm, and the drum machine helps enforce that in spades. I wonder why I wasn't using it as much before. I'll definitely make good use of it from now on.
And that's where I'm at. Tomorrow: More about the path I'm on and where I'm going.
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