The Buttermilk Jamboree and Ed Englerth’s Latest CD, Hope. Dream. Sigh.

Saturday I played with the Ed Englerth Band at the Buttermilk Jamboree near Delton, Michigan. This was the first of what is likely to become an annual all-weekend event at the Circle Pines Camp in the heart of rural Barry County. It was a fun and interesting festival that combined music and arts with the cooperatively owned camp’s longstanding values of ecology and sustainable living. As you might expect, the festival drew an eclectic crowd of every age, from old hippies to young musicians and everything between and beyond. Picture Woodstock in the woods and you’ve got the idea.

In the midst of this colorful hodgepodge, Ed, Alan, Don, and I did an evening performance on the Sugar Bush Stage. Oddly, while we appeared in the online schedule, the paper printout didn’t include us. We drew a decent group of listeners regardless, and Ed sold a few CDs from his newly minted album, Hope. Dream. Sigh. The CD is in fact so new that Ed paid extra for an early shipment, which arrived at his door mere hours before showtime.

I want to talk a little about Hope. Dream. Sigh. I’m hesitant to say that it’s Ed’s best effort yet because his last CD, Restless Ghost, is so bloody good. But this CD is at least of that same caliber, and some of the arrangements are easily the most ambitious yet. This is largely due to the way that Ed utilized me on the saxophones. This is the first of his albums on which we…

  • multi-tracked my horn parts to create an entire sax section. The apogee of this approach is the tune “Sad Stories,” with its ironic Calypso beat and wacky, humorous slant on relational woes.
  • created faux baritone sax tracks. Since I don’t own a bari, and since “Empty Pockets” seemed to flat-out demand the incorporation of a bari, we made one electronically by laying down an alto track and then dropping it an octave digitally. It worked great! “Empty Pockets” cooks, an irresistibly driving, hardcore rocker.
  • made unprecedented use of my soprano sax. I’ve been reluctant to play the soprano on previous albums because, well, my intonation sucks. Or so I’ve always thought. But that problem doesn’t crop up on this CD. Two songs feature the soprano in a big way, and in both of them the horn sounds fabulous. “I Do, I Don’t” klezmerizes Ed’s tongue-in-cheek commentary on fantasy living for the not-so-rich and delusional. On the serious side, “When Words Fail” is a minor, blues-drenched look at love that goes the distance when communication breaks down. I got a lot of room to stretch out on this tune as a soloist, and I’m delighted with the results.
  • .
    Ed is a fantastic songwriter and lyricist who steadfastly resists categorization. That’s one reason why I respect him as an artist and love him as a friend. The man has integrity as well as soul. Moreover, in Alan Dunst on drums, Don Cheeseman playing bass, and, I trust, me on the saxophones, Ed has found a small, steady core of fellow musicians and brothers in Christ who grasp and believe in his music. Each album displays growth, new directions, fresh creative expressions.

    Yes I’m biased. Of course I am–what would you expect? But not so biased that I’d speak this glowingly of Hope. Dream. Sigh. unless I believed it was really just that good. It is. Check it out and see for yourself. I might add that, with 17 tracks, you’ll get more than your money’s worth.

    And with that, I’m signing off. Early morning has turned into mid morning and the rest of this Monday stretches before me, with work to do and necessities to attend to. Ciao.

    Uh-oh! Time for Sax Maintenance AGAIN?!

    So there I am in Ed Englerth’s basement tonight, getting set to rehearse for our set this coming weekend at the Buttermilk Jamboree near Delton, Michigan.  I pick up my alto sax, clamp my lips around the mouthpiece and blow, and what happens? FWEEEEEFFFF, that’s what happens. My horn goes FWEEEEEFFFF.

    That’s not a promising sign. Hoping it’s just the reed, I substitute a different one, but once again, anything from low D down balks like crazy, and the higher notes aren’t all that cooperative either.

    So I take my leak light out of my case and run it down the horn, and what’s really frustrating is, I can’t see any sign of a leaky pad anywhere. Maybe that’s due to my strictly neophyte abilities when it comes to troubleshooting saxophone ailments, but still…not even a pinprick of light shining from one of the palm key pads? Nothing?

    Next step: remove the mouthpiece and check to make sure it’s sealing properly. It is–no problems there. And here’s the interesting part: when I put it back on the saxophone neck, my horn plays just fine–for about fifteen seconds. After that, HHAAARRRRNNKKK!!!

    Nutz. This sucks.

    So I set the alto aside and do the rehearsal using my soprano. I’m not crazy about that option since my intonation on the soprano sax leaves something to be desired, but I don’t have much choice. My alto is unplayable.

    I’m wondering whether a loose cork or something may have lodged somewhere in the horn and is impeding the air stream. Better that than have to take my horn to the shop for repair work that I just don’t have the money for right now. It has only been a few months, after all, since I slapped down $160 to have the sax repadded and ministered unto by my repairman.

    Whatever the problem is, I’ve got to get it fixed by this weekend, because I have two gigs, and one of them is a big band gig that doesn’t give me the liberty of simply swapping the alto for the soprano.

    Ugh. Saxual problems. But they can wait till tomorrow to figure out. I’m done thinking about the matter for today.

    Bb Edition of “The Giant Steps Scratch Pad” Is Now Available!

    Tenor sax, soprano sax, trumpet, and clarinet players, I’ve kept my promise and haven’t forgotten you! I’m pleased to announce that The Giant Steps Scratch Pad, Bb Edition is now published and available for purchase on Lulu.com.

    In case you haven’t followed any of my related posts, “The Giant Steps Scratch Pad” is a book of licks and patterns on the Giant Steps cycle. Made for the woodshed, it had its inception over ten years ago during a period in my life when I was immersing myself in Coltrane changes. Finding nothing in the way of practice material, I bought a spiral-bound book of staff paper and began writing down my own ideas, which multiplied over time into more material than I could wrap my arms around.

    In recent months, it occurred to me that the material could benefit other jazz musicians. So I transcribed it using MuseScore, and after more hassles and delays than I care to describe, finally published the Eb edition for alto sax and baritone sax players just two weeks ago. Read the release notice for more information on what the book has to offer jazz instrumentalists of every stripe who want a practice companion to help them develop their technique for improvising on “Giant Steps.” In a nutshell, information abounds on the theory of Coltrane changes, but this is the first book I know of that actually gets you soloing on “Giant Steps.”

    Flutists and other concert pitch instrumentalists, fear not: The C edition is next in line, and I’m already underway with editing. Bass players and trombonists, a bass clef edition will follow after the C edition has been published. So, campers, be patient. Nobody’s going to be excluded from the party.

    “The Giant Steps Scratch Pad” is now priced at $10.95. I had initially settled on $13.95, but when I factored in the cost of shipping from Lulu, I decided to trim down by a few bucks. Head to the Scratch Pad landing page to access both the Eb and Bb editions, and other editions as they become available.

    I’m hoping to have the C edition published within a week, so look for another announcement soon.

    A Charlie Parker Lick Around the Cycle of Fifths

    Okay, campers, listen up: Uncle Bob says it’s time again for another great sax lick. So gather round the campfire with your saxophones, and grease your fingers to keep them from igniting, because this lick comes to you from the immortal Bird. That’s right, Charlie Parker, the indisputable emperor of the alto sax–not merely a luminary of jazz, but one of its incendiaries. It pays to light your tinder with Bird’s flame, and this exercise will help you to do so. Click on the thumbnail to enlarge it to readable size.

    bird_lick_cycle_of_fifthsThe lick comes from the first bridge section of Parker’s solo on “Thriving from a Riff,” which is one of the myriad contrafacts based on the changes to “I Got Rhythm” that were written back in the bebop era. An alternate and perhaps better-known name for this particular tune is “Anthropology.” Same head, same changes, just a different title.

    While a number of variations exist on the chord changes to the Rhythm bridge section, the basic progression, and arguably the most frequently used, is four dominant seventh chords moving around the circle of fifths in two-bar increments. Since the cycle of dominants is the foundation for the Rhythm bridge, extending a lick written over the bridge so that it covers all twelve keys is a great way to develop fluency in every key. That’s the premise of the exercise on this page.

    Note that I’ve done only half your work for you. Once you’ve mastered the written material, you’ll need to transpose the lick so that it starts on E7 instead of B7, and work your way through the remaining transpositions.

    Parker played Rhythm changes in a number of keys, but the standard key of concert Bb is the one he used most often, and it’s the one that “Thriving from a Riff” was written in. It puts the Eb alto sax in the key of G, with B7 being the first chord of the bridge section. For Bb instruments such as tenor sax, soprano sax, and trumpet, the first chord will be E7. But for purposes of practicing the cycle of fifths, it really doesn’t matter which chord you start with–it’s all good, and it’ll all take you around the complete cycle through all twelve keys, which is the purpose of this exercise.

    It’s de rigeur these days to offer analyses of transcribed solos that are so exacting they could split the hairs on a fly’s behind. I admire the insight and effort that go into such exhaustive examinations of an artist’s work, but I frankly find them a bit overwhelming. I do, however, appreciate having points of particular interest spotlighted, and I will offer a few such highlights here.

    The opening figure, an arpeggio descending from the thirteenth of the chord, superimposes an A+(#7) over the B7. Bird couldn’t have more effectively avoided playing the basic triad tones. Note his use of the flatted fifth, creating a Lydian sonority. The parent scale at this point is a B Lydian dominant scale, but it’s only a temporary application. In the following bar, Parker clearly defines the B7 and his approach becomes purely diatonic up to bar 4, where he injects a touch of chromaticism in the form of a passing tone. Look closely and you’ll see a hidden chromatic line descending from the note D in bar 3 through C# and B# in bar four and landing on the note B. The final two notes, B and D, are chord tones, the fifth and flat seventh of the E7.

    So much for the fancy analytical stuff. If it helps you, fantastic; if it just loses you, don’t worry about it. The main thing is for you to get the exercise drilled into your fingers and your ears. In other words, make a point of memorizing it. Doing so won’t make another Charlie Parker out of you, but it will make you a better player.

    That’s the goal, right, campers? You bet it is. Uncle Bob has spoken. Now get your little butts back to your cabins–you’ve got some practicing to do.