It Was a Dark and Stormy Night, But the Band Played On

Happy New Year! Last year was tough but we made it through, didn’t we. I hope that 2011 will be a good year for you, for me, for us all.

Yeesh, I’m starting to talk like Tiny Tim. I’d better get on with this post, which is a summary of yesterday. Weatherwise, the last day of 2010 was a humdinger for convective connoisseurs, and jazz-wise, it was a fun evening for yours truly. While the two topics may seem unrelated, they are in fact integrally connected. It’s a well-known fact among my storm chasing buddies that any time I commit myself to a gig and am therefore unable to chase, tornadoes will drop out of the sky like confetti at a gala event. It’s a gift I have. Statistically, my powers hit their zenith the weekend of the Grand Rapids Festival of the Arts in early June. But anytime of the year, all hell is liable to break loose when I’m booked to play somewhere.

Yesterday was a prime case in point. While Steve Durst and I played a thoroughly enjoyable piano-sax gig for the dinner crowd at the Cobblestone Bistro here in Caledonia, tornadoes mowed across Missouri, Illinois, and Mississippi. You could see the event shaping up earlier in the week, with forecast models depicting a potent longwave trough digging deep into the nation’s midsection on Friday; a surface low working its way northward through Missouri and Iowa; high-velocity mid- and upper-level jets generating massive shear; and, critically, a long and broad plume of unseasonably rich moisture juicing the atmosphere up into Illinois ahead of an advancing cold front.

If you want to get some great insights into yesterday’s setup compared with two other similar wintertime severe weather events, check out this superb article by Adam Lucio in Convective Addiction. Adam’s analysis was spot-on. Tornadoes began spinning up early yesterday morning in Oklahoma and Arkansas and continued on through the day in Missouri and Illinois, surprisingly far north. Rolla and Saint Louis, Missouri, got whacked pretty solidly. Later, as expected, the action shifted south, with severe storms firing in Louisiana and a batch of night-time tornadoes gnawing their way across central Mississippi. Yazoo City found itself in the crosshairs for the third time this year as a strong radar couplet grazed past it, but, mercifully, this time the town appears to have escaped yet another direct hit.

With yesterday’s dust finally settled, the SPC’s present tally shows 40 preliminary tornado reports. Sadly, there were some fatalities, not all of which the reports show. What an awful way for the families affected to end a year that has already been difficult enough for so many people.

And the show isn’t quite over. Today, on the first day of 2011, Tornado Watch #3 is in effect for the Florida panhandle and southern Alabama. If that’s any kind of augur for this year’s severe weather season, April through June could be an interesting time for storm chasers.

But enough about the weather already. Let’s talk about jazz.

The Cobblestone Bistro is a beautiful place to play. I can’t believe that something like it exists in Caledonia, a community not exactly renowned as either a jazz hot spot or a north star of destination dining. But here the bistro is, fully operational now that a long-forthcoming liquor license has put its winsome and comfortable bar in business, and with an owner who appreciates and supports live jazz.

Last night I played my first gig at the Cobblestone for the New Years Eve dinner crowd from 6:00-10:00 p.m. Steve Durst joined me on the keyboards, and we spent an enjoyable four hours playing jazz standards in as elegant and ambiance-rich a setting as you could hope to find.

In a restaurant, particularly in a smaller room, it’s important not to play too loudly. People want to talk, and the music needs to add to the mood, not subtract from it by being too intrusive. That can be tricky for a sax player. A saxophone is not by nature a shy, quiet instrument, and a lot of energy is required to play it softly. But with three tables positioned directly in front of Steve and me, both of us absolutely had to reign in our volume.

Evidently we succeeded. We got no complaints of playing too loudly, but we did get some very nice compliments on our sound.

I’ll be playing at the Cobblestone again next Saturday, January 8, from 6:30-9:30 p.m. with Dave DeVos on bass and Paul Lesinski on keyboards. The trio will be playing as well on the 15th and 22nd, with Steve occupying the keyboard seat on the 15th. If you’re looking for a great night out in a beautiful setting, come and check us out.

And with that, I’m signing off and getting this first afternoon of a brand new year underway. I wish you a very happy and prosperous 2011.

–Storm (aka Bob)

Jamming with the Guys

As the fall season progresses and the flow du jour remains northwesterly, I’m glad I’ve got music to keep me occupied. Ridging may be a storm chaser’s nightmare, but here in Michigan it’s a color tourist’s dream as the slanting sun illuminates hillsides ablaze with scarlet, yellow, purple, orange, and the summer’s last green. Now, in this poet’s season, is when the musician in me comes alive.

Thursday’s gig with keyboard monster Paul Lesinski at The Seasonal Grille in Hastings, Michigan, went beautifully. It’s amazing how much music a sax player can make with just a piano accompaniment when the pianist is as gifted as Paul.

Of course, nothing can beat playing with a complete rhythm section of hugely competent players. That was the setting this morning into the early afternoon at Ric Troll’s studio west of Grand Rapids. It’s a privilege and a joy to make music with players the caliber of Ric, Randy Marsh, and Dave DeVos. Today, it was doubly nice to break away from the usual American songbook repertoire and work on some original material by Ric plus a couple of Pat Metheny tunes. Don’t get me wrong, I love the old standards. But I really welcome the opportunity to explore fresh directions that call for a different approach, free from the cliches that are so easy to fall into with the traditional 32-bar song form.

I had thought that today would be a recording session, but it didn’t turn out that way. Some of the tunes are quite challenging–one, with it’s three-against-four polymeter, took me a good while to digest–and I think Ric’s goal for this session was for all of us to simply get a feel for the music. Can’t fault him there, though there were some very nice moments that I’d have loved to listen to the replay of. Maybe next time. And I hope we can make that next time soon. I really like what came out of today’s creative ferment, and once we’ve got the material down tight, I think we’ll have the makings of a very nice recording.

Sweeten Your Sax Solos with Sixths

Just a little “S” alliteration to brighten your day. Think you can say the above headline ten times, fast?

It’s true, though. If you want to sweeten up your improvised solos, then get familiar with the interval of the sixth. There’s none sweeter.

Practice the sixth as an interval study on all your major scales, up and down. And think about its application. Remember that the sixth is the inversion of the third, and it possesses the opposite quality of its corresponding third. If the third is a major third, then when you invert it, you’ll get a minor sixth. And vice versa: a minor third inverted becomes a major sixth.

A standard and particularly pleasing use of the sixth is to jump from the third of the tonic chord up to its root at the end of a passage. But that’s just for starters; there are many ways to incorporate the sixth into your improvised solos. And sequences work beautifully, which is good incentive to spend time with diatonic sixth studies on major scales, as I’ve recommended above.

The sixth is particularly nice when you approach it with neighboring tones and passing tones. I may put together some exercises to get you started exploring the possibilities, so stay tuned. The sixth is a really handy interval to have in your arsenal as a sax player, and it’s well worth taking the time required to wrap your fingers around it.

“Giant Steps” Licks and Patterns

After posting a couple days ago on how to use the augmented scale with “Giant Steps” changes, I’ve experienced a renewed interest in woodshedding John Coltrane’s high-hurdle chord cycle.

There was a time in my musical life, maybe ten years ago, when I became moderately obsessed with “Giant Steps.” I painstakingly wrote down my practice material in a music notebook, which I continued to add to until I had a veritable blizzard of ideas to work with.

Today, looking through the web, I see plenty of resources that explore the theory behind the changes to “Giant Steps.” However, I don’t see much in the way of licks and patterns, of application-oriented stuff that a sax player can actually wrap his or her fingers around. So, since I’m presently re-exploring my “Giant Steps” notebook, I thought I’d share a page with you.

Click on the image to the right to enlarge it. It’s all hands-on stuff. If you want to study Coltrane’s theory involving key centers moving by major thirds, you can find plenty of information on the Internet, such as this excellent Wikipedia article. But understanding the “Giant Steps” cycle isn’t the same as playing it, and that’s where this article can help.

One caveat: since I’m an alto sax player, I wrote out the changes in my key. If you play an instrument pitched in Bb or C, such as tenor sax or flute, you’ll need to transpose.

The patterns shown here are for the first four bars of the tune’s A section. With it’s lopsided arrangement of V7-I cadences–which would be simple enough in themselves to negotiate if Coltrane hadn’t placed the bar lines so inconveniently–this section is the one that can be hard to master. I wrote out material for the B section as well, but what I’ve shown here will probably be more to your immediate interest.

Enjoy the material, practice hard, and have fun!

UPDATE: My entire “Giant Steps” practice notebook is now available for sale in C, Bb, Eb, and bass clef editions. Using music notation software, I transcribed all of the handwritten material (including the above image) into a clear, easy-to-read format; wrote a front section that discusses the basic theory of Coltrane changes and gives tips and insights for practice; and had a cover professionally designed.

The Giant Steps Scratch Pad is available as

* PDF download–$9.50

* Print edition–$10.95 plus shipping

The PDF will provide you with the full contents of the book instantly and save you money. The print edition gives you the complete, finished production complete with glossy cover. If you enjoyed the licks and patterns on this page, then The Giant Steps Scratch Pad is for you. View page samples from the Bb edition and order your copy today!

Sitting in with the Local Musicians

It’s always a pleasure to sit in with local musicians. In Suttons Bay, Michigan, I got a chance to blow with some very, er, unusual cats. Talk about jazz being an art form.

I had played a fun gig in Leelanau the previous evening just north of Cedar with the Rhythm Section Jazz Band. Lisa came with me, with the idea that we’d overnight in Traverse City and then take in a bit of northern Michigan. There’s no more beautiful place than the Leelanau peninsula in the fall, and we took our time driving through the area, up the east coast along Grand Traverse Bay to Leelanau State Park and the Grand Traverse Lighthouse, then down the shoreline of Lake Michigan to Sleeping Bear.

Stopping in the artsy-craftsy town of Suttons Bay, we had gotten some coffee and were heading back to the car when I happened to spot a jam session taking place outside a shop. Strangely, though, not a note was being played. As you can see, the band was in fact a group of stylized jazz musicians made

out of metal and set out on the lawn. Whatever the tune was that they were playing, they seemed to be really getting into  it, but something was missing. Ya can’t have a jazz band without a sax player, ya know!

Naturally, I volunteered my services, and we went at it. Lisa caught our little ensemble with her camera. Hope you enjoy the pics!

The Loudest Sax Player Ever

My friend and fellow musician Dave DeVos once told me, “You are the loudest sax player I’ve ever known.”

His words weren’t a compliment, just a statement of fact tinged with a slight mix of incredulity and annoyance. I’m a very loud sax player, much louder than I realize. As the old cliche says, I don’t know my own strength.

Of course I can play softly, but soft is not my default mode. Part of that is attributable to my horn, which is an old Conn 6M “Ladyface” that is very good at translating the air I move through it into immense volume levels. Another part is due to my mouthpiece, a Jody Jazz classic #8. But I think the main reason I’m a loud player is directly linked to the guy behind the horn. I just seem to have a knack for massive sound output.

I wasn’t always a loud player. I entered my freshman year in college a quiet young saxophonist. My sound at the time was styled after Tom Strang, a local alto man who owned a jazz bar in Ada called the Foxhead Inn. Tom had a smooth, mellow sound, very pleasing to the ears. He was not a loud sax player.

As an early influence, Tom’s tone pointed me toward a somewhat Desmondesque approach, not exactly the kind of robust Cannonball sound that could melt the wax in a listener’s ears at 100 feet. It was more a kind of foofy-foof-foof tone–subdued and, I thought, pleasantly sophisticated.

It was this mellow, sedate sound that I brought with me to the student big band at Aquinas College, where I sat under the august directorship of jazz professor Bruce Early. I was assigned to the first alto chair, and my lack of experience was such that I felt eminently qualified to fill the position. Clearly word of my abilities on the sax had preceded me, and Bruce had simply placed me where he knew I belonged. First chair. It was inevitable.

I’ll never forget my first awakening to the possibility that maybe I wasn’t all that and a supersized order of fries. The band was playing through some tune I’ve long since forgotten, and in the middle of the chart there was space for an alto solo. Cool. A chance for me to show my stuff, give Bruce a taste of my chops. I launched into the solo. Foofy-foof-foof, I played, subtly, while the rhythm section whanged away.

Bruce stared at me. “Play louder,” he said.

Ah. Louder. Okay then. Foof-foof-foofy-foof! I declared, in a volume that could almost be heard from ten feet away.

Bruce’s stare became a glare. “Louder!” he barked.

My gosh, what did this guy want? Here I was, foofing as loudly as ever I had foofed, and Bruce was calling for more.

I returned his glare with a desperate glance.

Foof? I played. Foofy-foof!

I was trying, but I quickly trended toward the softer, cocktail lounge volume that I was used to.

That did it for Bruce. “BLOW!!!!” he yelled. “For crying out loud, BLOOOWWWWW!!!!!!”

Some of the more seasoned musicians snickered, and my face went red as a beet. Hell’s bells. Fine, if it was volume Bruce wanted, I’d give him volume. And I did. I had a lot to learn about embouchure and tone production, but at that point I instinctively dipped into the raw essentials, filled my lungs with air, and blew my ever-loving cheeks off.

From that time on, while Bruce yelled at me for any number of things, my volume level wasn’t among them. He never again complained that I was playing too softly. Nor has anyone else, for that matter. Not ever. I’ve played with highly amplified blues bands and church worship teams and outblown them without using a microphone. I’ve been asked plenty of times to turn it down a bit, please. But no one has ever come to me and said, “Could you play louder? I can barely hear you.”

Just ask Dave. He’ll be glad to tell you, as soon as his ears stop ringing.