A while back, shortly after I joined the big band, I made the comment that I thought playing in the big band would balance well with playing in the jazz combo because I wouldn't have to work as hard in the big band as I do in the combo.
Well, I think I was wrong.
We are preparing for our April 17 concert, and we have a singer who does jazz workshops coming in to sing with us, Kathy Kosins. We will be doing two songs with her, plus an undetermined number of other songs, possibly including two Count Basie songs arranged by Neil Hefti. Long and short: there are critical piano parts in each of the Basie songs, and plenty of solo licks in the two vocalist songs, and it is very hard to practice the songs outside of the band because there is nothing for the piano to do when the singer is singing and the brass is blowing. I've taken to recording bits of our practice sessions to play back and play along with, but that hasn't gone so well (yet). Fortunately, I have the Atomic Basie CD, so I can play along with the two Hefti tunes. I also bought two of Ms. Kosins CD's (which haven't arrived at my house yet), one of which has one of the songs were doing with her on it, so hopefully, I'll be able to learn and swing those four tunes, plus our boogaloo tune which everyone is intent on doing (except me).
As if that weren't enough, our combo director wants us to work on Cherokee, which is a very difficult tune (for me) to play, and one I've given up on several times but now will not be permitted to give up on. Our drummer threw Keith Jarrett's The Magician in You into the mix, and I, unthinkingly, threw Falling Grace in (which I can play serviceably enough). And, last week when we practiced without our director, we came to the conclusion that I would be responsible for leading our group into and out of the endings of all our songs, a responsibility that I will not shirk, because I do believe the piano is "the key" to that part of the song, but it is something I'm not very experienced with and will have to work hard on.
So, even if I only do, say, fifteen minutes a day per tune, that's almost two hours, and that isn't that much practice when learning tunes. That's also more time than I have available to practice. Suffice to say, my back is now against the wall, and the only thing that can save me is focusing on these tunes in my private lessons and practicing my butt off every weekend and during spring break.
I asked for it, I got it.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
New Addition to Yoity Tot List
Since becoming interested in jazz music, I've always been a big fan of the big band sound. Something about all those horns and winds and rhythm instruments, coming down different roads headed in different directions all arriving at the same location at the same time. I don't know if it is the virtuosity of the players, the cleverness of the arrangers, or the resulting sound that appeals to me - probably some mixture of all three. Which is why when I was given the chance to play in a big band, I jumped at it: All that is something I wanted to experience firsthand for myself.
Which is a round about introduction to how I arrived at my latest addition to the Yoity Tot list: The Complete Atomic Mr. Basie. Before we started working on our Valentine's concert tunes, we took a look at a tune called, Teddy the Toad, which is a Neil Hefti arrangement done for Count Basie's orchestra. I couldn't play it for crap, but it sounded vaguely familiar and I liked it's swing moves. Yesterday, our first post-concert practice, we got handed a bunch of new music, including another Hefti-for-Basie arrangement of a well-known swing tune called, Splanky. One of the trombone players in our big band had brought it in and mentioned it was on Basie's album "E=mc2". I seemed to remember that album being the backbone of TCAMB. Again, we beat our way around Splanky, but I couldn't do anything with it right out of the box, not knowing the tune very well on top of not being the world's most talented sight-reader. What a relief to find I had those two tunes on the CD, and listening to it at dinner, I sort of wondered to myself, why hadn't I been more intimate with these great tunes and arrangements.
When I looked at my Yoity Tot list, I was actually surprised that TCAMB was not on it. I can only describe that as some kind of oversight on my part. Oh sure, I've got some other big band stuff on there, like Duke Ellington (with what I call his "medium band"), the Grammy nominated Gordon Goodwin, and of course, Thad Jones and Mel Lewis. And though I can't put it ahead of those overall, there is no doubt in my mind that TCAMB needs to be included in the Yoity Tot list, too. And now it is.
If you are a fan of big band and you don't have that CD, or at least an old LP of E=mc2, you need to go ahead and add it to your shopping cart on your favorite music site. It's one of the swingingest CD's around and killer cool!
AND, WHADDAYA KNOW? That's the 25th entry on the list, completely filling it out for the very first time. From here on out, I'll only be editing the list - taking out what I haven't listened to in a while, putting in what I am listening to - at least until I think the list could do with some growth. Which may be sooner than I think (I've bought ten new CD's in the last week. Who knows how I'll feel about the list after I've listened to them all...)
Which is a round about introduction to how I arrived at my latest addition to the Yoity Tot list: The Complete Atomic Mr. Basie. Before we started working on our Valentine's concert tunes, we took a look at a tune called, Teddy the Toad, which is a Neil Hefti arrangement done for Count Basie's orchestra. I couldn't play it for crap, but it sounded vaguely familiar and I liked it's swing moves. Yesterday, our first post-concert practice, we got handed a bunch of new music, including another Hefti-for-Basie arrangement of a well-known swing tune called, Splanky. One of the trombone players in our big band had brought it in and mentioned it was on Basie's album "E=mc2". I seemed to remember that album being the backbone of TCAMB. Again, we beat our way around Splanky, but I couldn't do anything with it right out of the box, not knowing the tune very well on top of not being the world's most talented sight-reader. What a relief to find I had those two tunes on the CD, and listening to it at dinner, I sort of wondered to myself, why hadn't I been more intimate with these great tunes and arrangements.
When I looked at my Yoity Tot list, I was actually surprised that TCAMB was not on it. I can only describe that as some kind of oversight on my part. Oh sure, I've got some other big band stuff on there, like Duke Ellington (with what I call his "medium band"), the Grammy nominated Gordon Goodwin, and of course, Thad Jones and Mel Lewis. And though I can't put it ahead of those overall, there is no doubt in my mind that TCAMB needs to be included in the Yoity Tot list, too. And now it is.
If you are a fan of big band and you don't have that CD, or at least an old LP of E=mc2, you need to go ahead and add it to your shopping cart on your favorite music site. It's one of the swingingest CD's around and killer cool!
AND, WHADDAYA KNOW? That's the 25th entry on the list, completely filling it out for the very first time. From here on out, I'll only be editing the list - taking out what I haven't listened to in a while, putting in what I am listening to - at least until I think the list could do with some growth. Which may be sooner than I think (I've bought ten new CD's in the last week. Who knows how I'll feel about the list after I've listened to them all...)
Monday, February 16, 2009
How much can a piano take?
Saturday night I went to the Huntsville Symphony. In its two most recent concerts, the symphony has sounded very good, and with a guest conductor (and pianist) this past week, I was mildly intrigued to hear how they would sound under a different maestro's baton. They started off with a Schumann symphony, which was a little bland, but executed well enough. After intermission came a Stravinsky piece, which was certainly different from anything I'd heard in a while (as Stravinsky usually is). Then came a Grieg piano concerto featuring Anne-Marie McDermott on piano. Although Mrs. S. and I have balcony seats in the center, second row (far from the stage), I also have an excellent pair of binoculars, a relic of my days as a horse race handicapper/writer. With those binoculars, we can usually get a fairly decent view of just about anything we want to see on stage. So I watched Ms. McDermott pretty closely for most of her performance.
Of course, she was playing a Steinway, and she was really having at it. The Grieg piece had a lot of up and down movement, and a lot of low register accents to drive and fill out the high register arpeggios and scales. These require the pianist to (BUM!) bash the left hand down, then (Be-da-da-duh, Be-da-da-duh...) quickly bring both hands to the upper register to thump some high accent notes before immediately rushing down the keyboard in a frenzy, then BUM, Be-da-da-duh, Be-da-da-duh, BUM, Be-da-da-duh, Be-da-da-duh, over and over again, for about fifteen minutes. It was as physically demanding a performance as it was musically interesting.
Then I got to thinking. A Steinway & Sons grand has no trouble standing up to this kind of incessant, harried, (essentially) uncontrolled pounding, and indeed, the Huntsville Symphony's Steinway grand sounded, well, grand, while succumbing to Ms. McDermott's relentless attacks and beatings. While I watched, I thought about my serviceable, but modest Yamaha P-70 at home. While it sounds good and has true piano feel and response, it is clunky at the best of times and is basic in construction and performance. It occurred to me that if Ms. McDermott were to play the Grieg piece on my piano, she could only play it once or twice before she completely beat the piano into submission. As I watched her play the Steinway, I kept mentally projecting the P-70 beneath her hands, and all I could envision were keys flying and plastic housings cracking, red felt pads popping out the bottom and sides, and electronic circuit boards splintering and sparking into oblivion. I mean, every once in a while, when I'm practicing and I get frustrated, I'm apt to bang on the keyboard, or get rough in my playing just to let out some frustration, whereupon I sense the keyboard's delicacy and allow the guilt to force me pull my punches and stop. I know one day, if I don't control myself, one or more of those keys are going to go down, and not get back up again. Ever. I'll really feel bad on that day.
Maybe I just need a Steinway, so I can beat the hell out of it once in a while.
Maybe not.
As I do after every live performance I attend, I buckled down and practiced yesterday. I never bashed my keyboard once, not even while mutilating a stride exercise or disgracing Falling Grace by playing too fast.
Tomorrow (or maybe Wednesday), a long overdue addition to the Yoity Tot list.
Of course, she was playing a Steinway, and she was really having at it. The Grieg piece had a lot of up and down movement, and a lot of low register accents to drive and fill out the high register arpeggios and scales. These require the pianist to (BUM!) bash the left hand down, then (Be-da-da-duh, Be-da-da-duh...) quickly bring both hands to the upper register to thump some high accent notes before immediately rushing down the keyboard in a frenzy, then BUM, Be-da-da-duh, Be-da-da-duh, BUM, Be-da-da-duh, Be-da-da-duh, over and over again, for about fifteen minutes. It was as physically demanding a performance as it was musically interesting.
Then I got to thinking. A Steinway & Sons grand has no trouble standing up to this kind of incessant, harried, (essentially) uncontrolled pounding, and indeed, the Huntsville Symphony's Steinway grand sounded, well, grand, while succumbing to Ms. McDermott's relentless attacks and beatings. While I watched, I thought about my serviceable, but modest Yamaha P-70 at home. While it sounds good and has true piano feel and response, it is clunky at the best of times and is basic in construction and performance. It occurred to me that if Ms. McDermott were to play the Grieg piece on my piano, she could only play it once or twice before she completely beat the piano into submission. As I watched her play the Steinway, I kept mentally projecting the P-70 beneath her hands, and all I could envision were keys flying and plastic housings cracking, red felt pads popping out the bottom and sides, and electronic circuit boards splintering and sparking into oblivion. I mean, every once in a while, when I'm practicing and I get frustrated, I'm apt to bang on the keyboard, or get rough in my playing just to let out some frustration, whereupon I sense the keyboard's delicacy and allow the guilt to force me pull my punches and stop. I know one day, if I don't control myself, one or more of those keys are going to go down, and not get back up again. Ever. I'll really feel bad on that day.
Maybe I just need a Steinway, so I can beat the hell out of it once in a while.
Maybe not.
As I do after every live performance I attend, I buckled down and practiced yesterday. I never bashed my keyboard once, not even while mutilating a stride exercise or disgracing Falling Grace by playing too fast.
Tomorrow (or maybe Wednesday), a long overdue addition to the Yoity Tot list.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Nothing like a curveball
Last night was the Valentine's Songfest Concert. Four bands playing six songs, and it really was quite a big success. The concert led off with the Wednesday night combo which I play in, then the "second" big band, which I also play in, then the Thursday night combo, which is just a trio, then the "big" big band.
At rehearsal in the late afternoon with the second big band, I was still utterly unable to play my six bar solo without flubbing it, and I started to become genuinely worried I was going to make an ass of myself when it came time to play. When I played it by myself or just for the director, I didn't have a problem, but when I played it leading into the band, I had to make it up. It was awful. But eventually, we ran out of time and I simply hoped to get lucky when it came time for the performance. I'm sure my band mates were hoping the same.
The curveball came at our next rehearsal for the combo. Over the last five weeks, we've play about six different songs, but since two weeks ago, we'd only played two: My Romance, and Ruby, My Dear. Last week, we decided we would play Ruby at the concert, and that was what we worked on all during practice, and that was the only song I practiced during the week. So, sure enough, our director comes in and says, "You guys know you're playing My Romance, right?" The guitar and tuba player both go, yeah, we know, whereupon I said, "You gotta be shittin' me." Then, for a brief second, I assumed the guys were playing a joke on me, and I asked them if they were, but they assured me, no. No joke. The program has My Romance, and we're the first act. Everybody said, don't worry you sound fine, and hey, it's jazz! And while I'm fully aware I can play some simulacrum of the song, I'm also aware I can't play it half as well as I can play Ruby. Oh well. We dive in. We sounded great during practice, we worked out some chording ideas, and my confidence returned.
So, showtime. My Romance did sound pretty good. We got through our solos, but somehow we got confused with the section on tradeoffs, and like the last time we flubbed a song publicly (which was a slightly different group), no one was quite sure what happened. But, we kept going, avoided the train wreck (where the song goes off the track and comes to a complete stop), signaled for the head, and finished the song safe. I don't think the audience even recognized we had goofed.
Then came My Funny Valentine with the big band. And lo and behold, while I did stumble slightly, I did not flub the solo by any means, and as a matter of fact, got it mostly spot on. I was overjoyed. The rest of that song and the original that we did were fine, including a solo in the second piece that was not as interesting as when I played it in practice but still sounded somewhat accomplished.
In short, then: I continue to progress. Slowly, but progressing nonetheless. And I have to say, I do have a lot of fun during the concert. The feeling of exhilaration after the concert is great, too, not to mention the feeling of being free from having to master some songs, patterns, solos, etc. Just liberation and freedom to plunk around the keyboard as I will.
There's nothing like a curveball to make the concert experience all the more rewarding!
At rehearsal in the late afternoon with the second big band, I was still utterly unable to play my six bar solo without flubbing it, and I started to become genuinely worried I was going to make an ass of myself when it came time to play. When I played it by myself or just for the director, I didn't have a problem, but when I played it leading into the band, I had to make it up. It was awful. But eventually, we ran out of time and I simply hoped to get lucky when it came time for the performance. I'm sure my band mates were hoping the same.
The curveball came at our next rehearsal for the combo. Over the last five weeks, we've play about six different songs, but since two weeks ago, we'd only played two: My Romance, and Ruby, My Dear. Last week, we decided we would play Ruby at the concert, and that was what we worked on all during practice, and that was the only song I practiced during the week. So, sure enough, our director comes in and says, "You guys know you're playing My Romance, right?" The guitar and tuba player both go, yeah, we know, whereupon I said, "You gotta be shittin' me." Then, for a brief second, I assumed the guys were playing a joke on me, and I asked them if they were, but they assured me, no. No joke. The program has My Romance, and we're the first act. Everybody said, don't worry you sound fine, and hey, it's jazz! And while I'm fully aware I can play some simulacrum of the song, I'm also aware I can't play it half as well as I can play Ruby. Oh well. We dive in. We sounded great during practice, we worked out some chording ideas, and my confidence returned.
So, showtime. My Romance did sound pretty good. We got through our solos, but somehow we got confused with the section on tradeoffs, and like the last time we flubbed a song publicly (which was a slightly different group), no one was quite sure what happened. But, we kept going, avoided the train wreck (where the song goes off the track and comes to a complete stop), signaled for the head, and finished the song safe. I don't think the audience even recognized we had goofed.
Then came My Funny Valentine with the big band. And lo and behold, while I did stumble slightly, I did not flub the solo by any means, and as a matter of fact, got it mostly spot on. I was overjoyed. The rest of that song and the original that we did were fine, including a solo in the second piece that was not as interesting as when I played it in practice but still sounded somewhat accomplished.
In short, then: I continue to progress. Slowly, but progressing nonetheless. And I have to say, I do have a lot of fun during the concert. The feeling of exhilaration after the concert is great, too, not to mention the feeling of being free from having to master some songs, patterns, solos, etc. Just liberation and freedom to plunk around the keyboard as I will.
There's nothing like a curveball to make the concert experience all the more rewarding!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Jitters
For four years, I played organ at good ol' St. Mel's in Cleveland OH, mainly as accompanist to the adult and children's choir. Our “season” ran basically with the school year: from Labor Day through Memorial Day. Every week I played a limited liturgical repertoire spiced with simple Bach and Handel chorales and whatnot, always on the same instrument, always with the same choir, largely for the same people.
And every week I got nervous as hell.
I'm amazed to think back to that now and realize, I can honestly never remember a single occasion when I did not get nervous. One would have thought that after a while, it becomes second nature, you really don't think about all the people who are hearing you play, and you don't get nervous, but I always did.
When we played the Flying Monkey last semester, I was nervous, but not in a terrible sort of way. I was mainly just worried about how the performance would go, since the band hadn't played together but one of the previous four weeks. For some reason, though, with tomorrow night's concert looming, I am pretty nervous. This is despite the fact that both of the bands I'm playing in have practiced together every week for the last five, and that I have also practiced hard and finally mastered all my sections. I should be less nervous, but I'm actually more so.
I think a lot of it has to do with the venue, which this time is an actual hall, where everybody will be able to see and hear me clearly. All I can do now is put it out of my mind, concentrate on not letting the cold or flu bug I'm fighting win out, and then play like I know I can play.
Not a very helpful entry, I know, but hopefully insightful to some of you performing jazz musicians out there. Break a leg!
And every week I got nervous as hell.
I'm amazed to think back to that now and realize, I can honestly never remember a single occasion when I did not get nervous. One would have thought that after a while, it becomes second nature, you really don't think about all the people who are hearing you play, and you don't get nervous, but I always did.
When we played the Flying Monkey last semester, I was nervous, but not in a terrible sort of way. I was mainly just worried about how the performance would go, since the band hadn't played together but one of the previous four weeks. For some reason, though, with tomorrow night's concert looming, I am pretty nervous. This is despite the fact that both of the bands I'm playing in have practiced together every week for the last five, and that I have also practiced hard and finally mastered all my sections. I should be less nervous, but I'm actually more so.
I think a lot of it has to do with the venue, which this time is an actual hall, where everybody will be able to see and hear me clearly. All I can do now is put it out of my mind, concentrate on not letting the cold or flu bug I'm fighting win out, and then play like I know I can play.
Not a very helpful entry, I know, but hopefully insightful to some of you performing jazz musicians out there. Break a leg!
Friday, February 6, 2009
Entry #100: Let me introduce you to the Steinway
At UAH, where I'm studying music, there are three pianos. The first is an electronic Yamaha P-140, which is utilitarian but still, being newly purchased to replace a similar keyboard where some of the key keys didn't come back up after being struck, is very, very good. That is the piano that I use when the "varsity" big band is rehearsing while we (the "junior varsity" big band) are, which is every Monday and Wednesday. Then there is a Yamaha grand, which generally sits in the practice room but is often moved on stage for the varsity big band's rehearsal. I get to use that one when our combo practices (Wednesday after big band). The third piano is a Steinway grand, which is only used for recitals and concerts. It is stored in a room behind the main stage. I'd only ever seen it once.
Until last night.
A cold snap here in north Alabama forced the music department to move the Steinway out of storage, due to it being in the northwest corner of the building, in an unheated storage area of an unheated recital hall. (And we all know that extreme temperatures, cold or hot, wreak havoc on pianos.) So, the varsity big band pianist got to play the Steinway during their practice, while I finally got to use the Yamaha for our junior varsity practice. But after that, our jazz combo moved into the recital hall and I got to fiddle on the Steinway.
Which was nice.
It felt about the same, but the response seemed a little sharper than the Yamaha. I didn't like the sustain pedal, because it sat up pretty high and was a little stiff to press down on. Plus, I couldn't really tell what kind of response I was getting. The strings were impressive to look at, and the sound was decidedly fuller, which made me regret that I can't play the piano very well. I would have liked to have been able to do something on it other than my meager hack moves. It was sort of like driving a Ferrari three blocks to the grocery store: Yeah, it was fun, but it could have been so much more. Still, I can console myself with that thought that not every pianist ever even gets to play a Steinway, but I not only got to rehearse on one, I will get to perform on it next week as well.
So, February 11 is the big day. In the combo (which will probably lead off the concert), we'll be doing "Ruby, My Dear", and in the big band (which should play third after the other combo), we'll be doing "My Funny Valentine" and a commissioned original, "I Hung the Moon Up There Just For You". I'm going to have to really practice hard this weekend to get everything up to speed, but I'm pretty close already, so, it shouldn't be a problem.
For those of you in the neighborhood, I hope to see you there.
Until last night.
A cold snap here in north Alabama forced the music department to move the Steinway out of storage, due to it being in the northwest corner of the building, in an unheated storage area of an unheated recital hall. (And we all know that extreme temperatures, cold or hot, wreak havoc on pianos.) So, the varsity big band pianist got to play the Steinway during their practice, while I finally got to use the Yamaha for our junior varsity practice. But after that, our jazz combo moved into the recital hall and I got to fiddle on the Steinway.
Which was nice.
It felt about the same, but the response seemed a little sharper than the Yamaha. I didn't like the sustain pedal, because it sat up pretty high and was a little stiff to press down on. Plus, I couldn't really tell what kind of response I was getting. The strings were impressive to look at, and the sound was decidedly fuller, which made me regret that I can't play the piano very well. I would have liked to have been able to do something on it other than my meager hack moves. It was sort of like driving a Ferrari three blocks to the grocery store: Yeah, it was fun, but it could have been so much more. Still, I can console myself with that thought that not every pianist ever even gets to play a Steinway, but I not only got to rehearse on one, I will get to perform on it next week as well.
So, February 11 is the big day. In the combo (which will probably lead off the concert), we'll be doing "Ruby, My Dear", and in the big band (which should play third after the other combo), we'll be doing "My Funny Valentine" and a commissioned original, "I Hung the Moon Up There Just For You". I'm going to have to really practice hard this weekend to get everything up to speed, but I'm pretty close already, so, it shouldn't be a problem.
For those of you in the neighborhood, I hope to see you there.
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