March 28 Tornadoes in the Southeast

An outbreak of severe thunderstorms spun off a series of damaging tornadoes in the Southeast earlier this evening. The SPC’s preliminary count shows eight tornado reports, seven in North Carolina and one in Florida.

Two trailer parks in Davidson County, North Carolina, sustained damage, with multiple injuries, and for Guilford County came this report:

GUILFORD COUNTY EMERGENCY MANAGER CONFIRMED 20 STURDY HOMES DAMAGED NORTH OF HIGH POINT. (RAH)

In all, this evening has been an active one weatherwise, with low-topped supercells rumbling across the hills and flatlands from Florida on up to Virginia. As I write, three tornado warnings are in effect, though at this point they’re all Doppler warned and I think the storms are done producing for the night.

Of course I’ve done my share of armchair chasing. Here are a couple radar grabs of two North Carolina supercells. The first image, taken at 9:30, shows base reflectivity, and the second, captured 24 minutes earlier at 9:06, shows storm relative velocity. Don’t ask me to explain the lag time, because I can’t–I didn’t realize so much time had elapsed between image grabs until I looked at the file details a while later. No biggie, though–this isn’t a research paper, and you get a good idea of the progression of the storms.

They weren’t big storms, but they sure packed a punch. For me, this spring thus far has been a demonstration of how you don’t need 60s dewpoints and

much CAPE at all in order to get tornadoes. Cold mid-level temps conspiring with  massive shear and hulking 1 km helicities can do a lot with dewpoints 55 degrees and even lower. Today’s 6 km shear has been in the order of 90 knots in places, with low-level helicities exceeding 400. That’ll get the job done, and evidently it did this evening.

Sea surface temperatures in the Gulf of Mexico remain cooler than normal, but with the GFS consistently wanting to bring in decent moisture–finally–into the Plains, and now with the NAM painting a similar picture, what could prove to be a very active tornado season may at last be stirring to life. Tonight may prove to have been a warning shot fired across the bow. Storm chasers, got your Rain-X ready?

Sax Practice: A Chromatic Motif on the Cycle of Dominants

If you want to develop fluency at voice-leading and switching keys, cycle exercises are mandatory and the cycle of fifths is supreme. Taking dominant patterns and licks around the cycle of fifths is a longstanding habit of mine. As with a lot of musical disciplines, at first I delayed, I kicked, I resisted tackling this one for a long time because, well, it was work. Finally I decided to buck up and eat my spinach, and today the circle of fifths is a key component of my practice regimen, particularly for V7 chords.

After all, the dominant seventh, more than any other chord, defines the key center; it’s the chord that screams “resolve me!” So it pays for sax players and other jazz improvisers to consistently drill their ears and their fingers with exercises that can build their facility with dominant seventh chords.

Here’s one such exercise that I’ve been having fun with lately. Click on it to enlarge it. There’s nothing mysterious about this little motif; I could pull it off easily in a number of keys right where I stand without making a practice issue of it. I’ve practiced enough related material that my fingers already know the way. But spotlighting the figure makes it likelier that I’ll use it in my solos; it ensures that my technique will follow me into any key; and, as with all cycle of fifth exercises, it helps me hear how the pattern lays out in root movements by fifth.

For each dominant chord, the exercise ascends chromatically from the ninth to the third, and then from the root to the seventh. I’ve set it in triplets, but you’ll want to experiment with different rhythms.  I might add, this little motif sounds great in blues solos.

No need for me to say more–except, of course, to pester you to check out more exercises on my jazz page. Have fun practicing!

Intuitive Jazz Solos: Hearing the Music with Your Fingers

Last night, after a particularly inspirational practice session, I found myself thinking about what it was that I was accomplishing. Saturating myself in the rarely used key of concert A, as I’ve been doing lately, and also taking new material through all twelve keys, has not only been unlocking my saxophone technique overall, but it is also causing me to consider the result I’m after. In a nutshell, I want my fingers to hear the music.

That’s my way of saying that I want to get the muscle memory in my fingers integrally linked with my inner ear, and my inner ear to what I’m actually hearing moment by moment in a given improvisational setting, so intimately that I can conceive ideas instantly and execute them flawlessly.

Have you noticed that there are certain keys in which your fingers just naturally know where to go? Keys and tunes in which you’ve mastered your melodic materials to the point where they’re innate; where licks and patterns are just tools in your toolkit, not your life raft that keeps you afloat? Concert Bb, F, and C major are keys most jazz musicians are quite familiar with, for instance. But what about B, D, A, or F#? The American Songbook may not abound with tunes written in the “hard” keys, but lots of songs have momentary digressions to them.

“Ornithology,” for example, has a temporary excursion into the key of concert A in the form of a iii-VI7-ii-V7 progression. The bridge section to “Cherokee” includes an entire four-bar ii-V7-I cadence in that same key. Spending time trying to master those two tunes has given me incentive to hash out the key of A, to the point where my fingers are starting to “hear” in that key. They “feel” where the third and leading tone of the scale are, and how those notes fit into different harmonic contexts; they’re getting better at handling the avoid-tone of the fourth; they’re becoming friends with passing and non-harmonic tones, and growing more adept at using non-diatonic notes to realize borrowed harmonies.

It’s a process that begins with thinking things through, then working your thinking into your fingers through repetition over many practice sessions. The result, over time, is less deliberation (“If I play an E, that’ll be the #9 of the C#+7#9 chord, moving down to D, then resolving to the root”) and more instantaneous response. Once you reach that point, you no longer need to tell your fingers what to do; they feel it for themselves in their wee little finger souls. Your thinking speeds up, and your fingers are right there with you, eager to serve your ideas and fully capable of doing so.

How many keys, and how many tunes, can you hear with your fingers? Pay your dues in the woodshed, transcribe and memorize jazz solos, play out whenever you get a chance, and over time, your fingers will develop big ears.

45 Year Commemorative Event Planned for 1965 Palm Sunday Tornadoes

April 11 this year will mark the 45th anniversary of the second worst Midwestern tornado outbreak of modern times. The 1965 Palm Sunday Outbreak is noteworthy not so much for the number of tornadoes involved as for their violence and the number of fatalities they produced. Out of 38 “significant” (F2 or greater) tornadoes that occurred in six state over 11 hours, 19 were rated at F4 and two at F5. Going by NOAA’s death toll and adding to it one Iowa resident who died a month later from his injuries, 272 men, women, and children lost their lives in the storms.

One of the victims was Stevie Forsythe, the brother of my friend Debbie Forsythe-Watters. Debbie is the owner of a tornado memorial park that occupies the property where her childhood home in Dunlap, Indiana, just south of Elkhart, was swept away by F5 winds. To learn more about the park, check out my earlier post on the Dunlap tornado memorial, complete with photos.

Debbie is currently planning this year’s commemorative event, to be held on the date of the tornadoes: Sunday, April 11. If you take an interest in this historic and influential weather disaster, you may wish to attend the service. It will be held on the park grounds. The time has yet to be determined, but it will likely be in the late afternoon.

I will post more information as details are solidified.

Charlie Parker: His Music and Life (Book Review)

Intellectually, all saxophonists understand that Charlie Parker had to pay his dues just like anyone else. We’ve heard the stories about a high-school-age Parker learning to play on a clunky old artifact of an alto saxophone held together by rubber bands; about his mortification when drummer Jo Jones “gonged” him by skittering a cymbal across the floor at a jam session; about Parker woodshedding for 13-hour stints in the Ozarks, developing his formidable technique. In theory at least, we know that Bird wasn’t born with an alto sax in his hands. He had a learning curve just like the rest of us mere mortals. There was even–and I realize this will leave many of you in a state of shock and denial, but it’s nevertheless true–a time when Bird sucked.

We know these things. Personally, though, I still find the idea of Charlie Parker as a novice hard to wrap my mind around.

So reading the book Charlie Parker: His Music and Life by Carl Woideck has proved not only enlightening, but also reassuring.* Musical genius though he was, Bird was still just a very human, flawed possessor of a God-given gift that he worked hard to develop. Seen in that light, Parker represents not an unattainable ideal, but a waymaker, a teacher, and an inspiration who encourages the rest of us to keep at it; to push past our personal limitations; to practice, practice, and practice some more.

A number of excellent biographies have been written on Charlie Parker, providing fascinating glimpses into his quirky personality, immense talent, and tragic excesses. Rather than merely adding one more book to the firmament of Charlie Parker life stories, Woideck has taken a different approach, focusing on the development of Bird as a musician. Woideck’s tome offers eye-opening and profitable insights into the different phases of Charlie Parker’s music, from Parker’s apprenticeship with Kansas City saxophonist Buster Smith, to his tenures with the Jay McShann and Fletcher Henderson big bands, to his co-development of new musical concepts with trumpeter Dizzy Gillespie, to his peak playing years in the late 40s, to his latter period in the 50s, when Parker’s sense that he had taken the bebop approach as far as he could left him groping for a new direction even as his addictions increasingly took their toll.

A glance at the table of contents reveals the book’s logical, easy-to-follow organization. Part one offers a brief biographical sketch of Bird, creating a context for the examination of his musicianship that follows. Part two explores Parker’s music in four different periods: 1940–43, 1944–46, 1947–49, and 1950–55.

Woideck substantiates his discussion of Parker’s musical trajectory and playing style with copious analyses of Bird solos, using excerpts from such tunes as “Honey and Body,” “Embraceable You,” “Ko Ko,” “I’ve Found a New Baby,” “Body and Soul,” “Swingmatism,” and many more to illustrate Bird’s changing palette of nuances and techniques.

This is easily the most comprehensive exploration of Parker’s music that I’ve come across, made all the more so by appendices that provide a select discography and four complete solo transcriptions: “Honey and Body,” “Oh, Lady Be Good!” “Parker’s Mood” (take 5), and “Just Friends.” Being an alto sax man myself, like Bird, I could wish that the solos had been transcribed in the Eb alto key that Parker played them in. However, from a standpoint of general usefulness to all musicians, it’s understandable that the transcriptions and discussion examples appear in concert pitch.

Painstakingly researched and written with clarity and crispness, Charlie Parker: His Music and Life is a fascinating and enriching book for any musician and a must-read for alto saxophonists.

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* Carl Woideck, Charlie Parker: His Music and Life (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1996).

Moisture Return Getting Primed for April?

So far most of the systems that have moved across the CONUS have lacked the moisture needed to produce tornadoes. But that may be about change toward the end of March. If the GFS is good for at least suggesting possibilities, then the Gulf of Mexico may finally start to open up and introduce 60s dewpoints well up into Dixie Alley, and upper 50s into the Midwest.

Just for kicks, I ran a series of today’s 12Z models for 21Z and 18Z out through 384 hours, and I found the first glimmer of better days around 159 hours in east Texas, shifting to Mississippi and Alabama at 180 hours. By the end of March, around 300 hours, deeper incursions of adequate to decent dewpoints were stretching north.

Let’s not get into the foibles of long-range forecasts, okay? We all know about them, and this post isn’t even a wishcast, just pure speculation. At this time of year, with El Nino gradually weakening, it seems reasonable to think that the moisture fetch will start improving as March transitions into April.

On the one hand, the ENSO charts call for cooler-than-normal sea surface temperatures in the Gulf; on the other hand, warmer weather ahead, common sense, and plain old gut instinct suggest that something’s gotta give. A tornado-less February, fine; a downscale March, understandable; but I just can’t image a convectively wimpy April.

Unbagging the Kids

Yesterday I took the kids out of the refrigerator, where I’ve kept them in bags since December, and have been busy burying them in dirt one by one. Before you pick up the phone in horror and dial the authorities, let me explain that the “kids” are my carnivorous plants, and refrigerating them is essential for meeting their dormancy requirement. As I think of it, the fact that, in addition to being fanatical about tornadoes, I also have a sizable collection of carnivorous plants probably seems fairly ghoulish in its own right, but the truth is, while I may be eccentric, I’m fairly harmless.

For that matter, compared to some members of the International Carnivorous Plant Society, I’m just a dabbler at a fascinating hobby that can be taken much farther than I have the money or the room for. My modest, apartment-balcony-sized collection is nevertheless something I take much delight in. At present it consists of all eight Sarracenia species, including a few subspecies and varieties, and a whole brigade of Venus flytraps.

Not only did the roots of most of my plants grow quite a bit last year, but most of them have also subdivided, which has necessitated my purchasing more and larger pots this year. This has been particularly true of the Venus flytraps. You just wouldn’t believe how the things multiply. I started with five plants a few years ago and now have 2.5 million of them. At least, it seemed like that many back in December when I had to remove them from their pots, wash them off individually, separate their corms at their growth points, remove all of the dead leaves and anything that could rot, wash them in sulfur solution to prevent mold, wrap them in sphagnum moss, spray the moss with fungicide, place them in bags, and finally, stick them in the refrigerator. If that sounds like a tedious process, pat yourself on the back for figuring it out. It took me two evenings to process five freezer bagfuls of flytraps.

Now I face the joyous prospect of unbagging my Venus flytraps and repotting them, and I’m not even sure how many I actually have. Probably somewhat fewer than 2.5 million, but still a lot. The good thing is, planting them will probably take considerably less time than I spent preparing them for the fridge.

As for the pitcher plants, I finished potting the last two bags tonight. Yahoo! I can hardly wait to see how big my Sarracenias will get this year in the bigger pots, particularly since they’re getting a month’s head start on last year. April 2009 was cold the entire month; this year, we’ve already hit the mid 60’s these past few days. And the plants had already begun growing in the refrigerator, sending out pale leaves and white flower stalks. Now that they’re getting some warmth and sunlight, I have a hunch that at least some of them, if not all, are going to go absolutely gonzo.

If you want to meet some of the kids, go to my wildflower and outdoors photos and then click on the sundews, North American pitcher plants, and Venus flytrap galleries. The photos are from 2009. Keep an eye out in a month or two for updates. By then, a lot of the plants will be in flower. This year ought to be a spectacular display, so stay tuned.

Recording Session with Ric Troll and Dave DeVos

This afternoon was a great time in the studio with my friends Ric Troll and Dave DeVos. Ric’s recording studio, Tallmadge Mill, is a topnotch home studio. Some years ago, Ric and I used it to record Eyes on Mars, a CD of free jazz and experimental music featuring drums and saxophone. Now another project is on the griddle, this time with the very welcome addition of Dave on bass.

After warming up with “Big Foot,” a Charlie Parker blues, the three of us launched into a broad variety of original tunes, some with written heads and changes by Ric, and others that were simply concepts and musical games which maximized listening and empathic, responsive improvisation. What a privilege to make music with two such high-caliber musicians–guys who enjoy exploring far beyond the American Songbook, and who possess the imagination and technical finesse to turn such experimentation into a genuinely musical experience.

More recording lies in store. I’m not sure just how much, but I’ll keep you posted as things develop. At some point, I should also have a few audio clips to share with you, so stay tuned to this blog for updates.

Update on Palm Sunday Tornadoes Book

In a post a few months ago, I mentioned that I was writing a book on the 1965 Palm Sunday Tornadoes. I’ve kept the project largely under wraps, but yesterday I passed a significant mile marker, and I’m too pleased to not say anything. So here’s the news: as of last night, chapter two is completed.

That may not seem like such a grand achievement, but if you knew the amount of time it has taken me to accomplish it, both in doing the research and in waiting for the opportunity to pull together important pieces of information, then you would understand how formidable has been the logjam that I’ve just broken through. I can’t overstate how much pleasure I take in saying that, praise God, this bit of work is now behind me, and while the next part of the job will also take time, it should be relatively straightforward.

Chapter two deals with the meteorological and operational forecasting concerns of the Palm Sunday Outbreak. My goal in writing this chapter has been to create a solid context for the personal accounts which will commence in chapter three. I’ve striven to provide a decent overview of how a weak surface low centered over Denver on April 9, 1965, evolved into an historical weather disaster two days later on April 11. My challenge: furnish essential meteorological information that will interest and educate a popular readership rather than overwhelm them, without “dumbing down” to the point where weather weenies who desire a bit of substance would feel disappointed.

I’m extremely happy with the results, which include a historical backdrop of America and the state of meteorology in the United States at the time of the tornadoes; a chronology of tornado forecasts and warnings woven into a fast-paced narrative; a colorful description of the outbreak’s first tornado as it formed and moved across eastern Iowa; and the energy required to engage readers to the end, building enough momentum to launch them easily and naturally into chapter three.

Brag, brag, brag. Hey, don’t YOU brag about YOUR kids? I’ve worked hard to earn this  mellow but celebratory mood I’m in. This has been a big hurdle I’ve crossed, and I don’t mind giving myself an attaboy. Now comes the next phase of the book, which will consist of the stories of Palm Sunday Tornado survivors. Look for further updates a few months from now.

Radar Grabs from March 10 in Arkansas

Yesterday morning at 8:30, I looked at the RUC and the NAM, shook my head, and then headed out the door anyway to go bust chasing in Illinois. Chalk it up to a long Michigan winter or just plain foolhardiness, but there are times when I just have to go, period. Set out with my expectations low and hang my compass on nothing but hope, with the mindset that I’ll be grateful just to get a flash and a rumble. That’s what my buddy Bill and I got yesterday, and I’ll tell you, it was nice.

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The day before, March 10, the same storm system delivered a considerably higher level of intensity as it moved through Arkansas. Those meager-to-modest dewpoints managed to produce a nice little swarm of supercells on the nose of a handsome 500 mb jet, and several tornadoes spun down.

I didn’t chase that day, but I made a point of following things at home, and I happened to capture a few level 2 images of the day’s main bruiser near Searcy, about 50 miles northeast of Little Rock. The images were taken around 0235 Z (8:35 CST). Note the interesting “hammerhead” hook on the first reflectivity image. Beyond that, I’m not going to say more, just offer you the screen grabs for your viewing pleasure, along with some exciting memories for those of you who were on that storm.

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