Chromatic Exercises: Descending and Ascending Lines Against Static Tones

chromatic-lines-mscz-1The thumbnail to your cleft contains a couple of patterns I like to practice from time to time to limber up my ability to interpolate chromatic lines with common tones. I’ve also included a third exercise that I just thought of, and since I’ll be incorporating it into my saxophone practice sessions from now on, I figured I’d drop it into your lap as well. Click on the thumbnail to enlarge it.

The repeat signs don’t mean repeat just once; they mean repeat ad infinitum until the pattern is laying easily under your fingers. Then bump it up or down a half step and practice it in the new key. Repeat this process until you own the pattern in all twelve keys throughout the full range of your instrument.

While each pattern begins by outlining an A minor triad, it implies other harmonies as the chromatic line descends or ascends while the remaining tones remain static. I’ll leave it to you to figure out different practical applications.

You’ll find plenty more patterns, exercises, solo transcriptions, and articles of interest to jazz musicians on my jazz page.

Double Tonguing: It Doesn’t Come Easily, But It Does Come

Last November I posted an article on double tonguing on the saxophone, a technique I was just beginning to incorporate as a regular part of my practice sessions. Eight months have elapsed since then. I’d like to say that I’ve mastered double tonguing, but I’d be lying. I have, however, kept at it, and the gains, if slow, have nevertheless been significant.

This is a HARD technique to master! At least, it has been difficult for me. Maybe it has come easily to other saxophonists, but not to this one. By comparison, when I took up circular breathing years ago, I was quite comfortable with it within a few months. But double tonguing…well, the best thing I can do is to keep on keeping on with it, and to strive to apply it increasingly in my playing.

I have in fact gotten to the point where I’ve finally begun to use double tonguing when I’m playing out. It’s not a steady feature of my sax solos, just something that I experiment with.

But it’s in my practice sessions that I’ve been pushing myself, working on scales and licks using double tonguing. Does it sound polished? No. But it’s coming together, and at times it even sounds reasonably convincing.

As is true of any other musical challenge, repetition and perseverance are undoubtedly the key to mastering this technique. It’s a discipline, trying to get my tonguing to not only coincide with my fingerings, but also to make the results sound halfway musical rather than clunky. I seem to be able to handle about ten minutes of double tongue work, after which I move on. My patience is probably integrally tied to my tongue and embouchure’s endurance, and my philosophy is, work it and then leave it be.

At the time of this post, I’m capable of executing sixteenth notes at a tempo of around 135-140 mm. Not gracefully, to be sure, and not on the turn of a dime. I have to work into it. But that’s better than where I started.

Why am I even writing about this? Well, I’m not aware of anyone else who has actually chronicled their efforts to master this technique. If you’re working on it and it’s coming easily for you, then bully for you! But if you’re one who, like me, is finding double tonguing to be a real challenge to bring to a point of usefulness, then you might find it reassuring to know that you’re not the only one.  You might also take courage in hearing that improvements, while slow, do come.

The Return of the Trains: Sax Reflections from the Railroad Tracks

It’s good to see the trains again.

As a jazz saxophonist who loves to practice his horn in his car parked by a set of railroad tracks out in the countryside, I noticed last year that something was missing. Used to be, I could count on seeing the distant semaphore light turn green and watching as the white pinpoint of a headlamp miles down the tracks brightened, drawing closer until I could hear the rumble and then the roar of the locomotive and the clatter of freight cars rushing past. I enjoyed that experience at least once, and normally two or three times, during most practice sessions.

But as the bottom dropped out of the economy and Detroit’s auto industry languished, the giant spigots that sent the trains hurtling along the pipeline between Lansing and Grand Rapids closed to a trickle. Those hundred-car, three-locomotive strings I was so used to became, just like that, a thing of yesterday.

Until lately. It gives me much pleasure to say that the trains are returning.

I still don’t see them with the frequency I used to, but I am noticing that there are more of them, and they are growing longer. Two days ago, parked by the tracks in Alto, I paused in my practice to watch as a train boomed by in front of me…and kept on booming. It was one of those hundred-car affairs, just like in the good old days, which really aren’t old at all but certainly were enjoyable.

Now those days seem to be on the way back. It may be a modest return, but the spigots are reopening. It’s heartwarming to think, as I sit by my beloved tracks working out my saxophone chops, that I’m once again likely to hear the sound of another horn, far off in the distance and growing closer, and to feel the powerful, exhilarating, reassuring rhythm of a train rushing by.