Countdown to March

It’s the last day of January. Just one month to go till storm season begins! Yeah, baby!

I’m not the only one who thinks this way. A lot of you fellow storm chasers get happy at the thought of March arriving. It won’t be much longer–just four little weeks. Then spring begins.

That’s right, spring. While the vernal equinox will occur on March 20 at 2:35 a.m. EST this year, marking the arrival of astronomical spring, March 1 is the beginning of meteorological spring. Yes, boys and girls, there really is such a thing.

The Roman calendar began the year and the spring season on the first of March, with each season occupying three months. In 1780 the Societas Meteorologica Palatina, an early international organization for meteorology, defined seasons as groupings of three whole months. Ever since, professional meteorologists all over the world have used this definition.[5] So, in meteorology for the Northern hemisphere: spring begins on 1 March, summer on 1 June, autumn on 1 September, and winter on 1 December.

–From “Season,” Wikipedia

The long and short of it is, even as middle-tier states from the Texas panhandle eastward are dealing with the aftermath of an ugly winter storm, spring is just around the corner. On Tuesday, Groundhog Day, we’ll get the authoritative word from Punxatawney Phil on what the next six weeks holds in store weatherwise. But whatever his verdict may be, the fact is, we’re two-thirds of the way through meteorological winter. We’re almost there!

So dust off your laptop. Spring will be here before you know it.

Key Saturation: Mastering the Hard Keys on Your Sax

Tonight I practiced my saxophone for the first time since I pulled my back muscles this past Monday. It feels great to be able to walk freely again, and this evening it felt doubly great to hop into my car, head out to my beloved railroad tracks, and woodshed my horn for several solid hours.

Much of my time was spent working on the key of F#. That’s one of my favorite, time-tested approaches in practicing: to periodically pick a single key or tone center and saturate myself in it. By “saturate,” I mean hitting the key from every possible angle: running patterns on the scale. Drilling myself on the key’s dominant chord, including alterations and substitutes. Working chromaticism into the diatonic framework. Transposing and memorizing great jazz players’ solos. So on and so forth.

All of us practice key saturation to some extent simply by default. We don’t think of what we’re doing in those terms, but it’s the reason why we commonly become proficient in keys such as concert Bb, F, Eb, and C. We naturally spend lots of time working on those keys because they’re the ones that a great deal of jazz is written in. We think of them as the easy keys–easy because, we tell ourselves, they have fewer sharps or flats. But the real reason they’re easy is because we’ve practiced them enough to become conversant in them.

By that same reasoning, the “hard” keys–keys such as concert E, A, D, and F#–are hard not because they have lots of sharps or flats, but because we haven’t spent any real time getting intimately familiar with them.

The truth is, “hard” is just a mindset. There are no hard keys; there are only unpracticed keys. There are no difficult scales, only unpracticed ones.

That’s why it pays to pick a key or tone center you’re unfamiliar with every now and then, and spend several practice sessions saturating yourself in it. If you’ve never done so, give it a try.

If you’re an alto player, for instance, how well do you get around in the alto key of Ab? Not too hot? Then why not devote part of your next session to bombarding that key. Pick a solo transcription you know well and start learning it in Ab. Ditto a few tunes. Hash out diads and arpeggios, starting with the basics and working in bracketing and chromaticism. Wrap your fingers around a few ii-V7-I’s. And don’t forget your bebop scales.

Mastering a key takes time and consistency, but the saturation approach will get you there if you stick with it. And you just may find, as I’ve found, that key saturation can become addictive as those hard keys become less difficult and a lot more enjoyable.

The Cloudspotter’s Guide: From Nomenclature to Human Hailstones to Surfing the Morning Glory, Everything You Ever Wanted to Know about Clouds

I had crossed the world to meet this cloud, and, finally, here we were, face to face. I held my hand to shield my eyes from the brilliant rays, now that the sun was well off the northeastern horizon. And these cascaded down the cloud’s face, casting long, warm shadows along the ripples of its surface. The undulations gently rose up with the progress of the wave, before disappearing over the crest.

In so many words, Gavin Pretor-Pinney describes his first encounter with an unusual and wonderful cloud called the Morning Glory. The setting is Burketown, south of the Gulf of Carpenteria, halfway between nowhere and oblivion in the hinterlands of northern Queensland, Australia. To this tiny community, a growing number of glider pilots make annual pilgrimage, convening to take advantage of the ultimate gliding experience: surfing the Morning Glory. While this wave-like cloud formation–and it is a wave, the product of a rolling current of air advancing linearly across the sky–occurs elsewhere in the world, the Queensland Morning Glory is its finest example. And little, nowheresville Burketown is the Morning Glory Capital.

Surfing the Morning Glory is just one of the fascinating, warmly written, often humorous accounts you’ll find in The Cloudspotter’s Guide: The Science, History, and Culture of Clouds. Who better to write such a book than Gavin Pretor-Pinney, founder of The Cloud Appreciation Society. A lover and student of clouds since his childhood, the author takes you for a look at clouds from many angles. Working his way up from the atmosphere’s lower levels, he not only provides an excellent, well-organized introduction to cloud nomenclature, including the various species and varieties of each cloud genus, but he also shares personal and informative bits and pieces that render the richness of his subject in an imaginative, often funny, and sometimes off-the-wall manner. Through it all, Gavin’s passion for clouds shines like sun pillars in a sheen of stratocumulus.

In The Cloudspotter’s Guide you’ll revisit the terrifying experience of Lt. Col William Rankin, who in 1959, having jettisoned his crippled aircraft in the midst of a thunderstorm, became a human hailstone and lived to tell the tale.

You’ll also set foot inside the strangest “structure” ever designed–the Blur Building of the 2002 Swiss National Expo, made entirely out of cloud. And you’ll join Gavin in an amusing and educational fantasy trip backstage at a Frankie Lymon concert, as Gavin holds up the event in an effort to explain to the singer why the rain falls from up above.

There’s plenty more to this little book, named one of the Best Books of 2006 by The Economist. I spotted it a few weeks ago on the shelf at Schuler Books & Music while looking for some weather-related reading and decided to give it a try. Good choice. The Cloudspotter’s Guide is a whimsical, informative, and heartfelt read, written in a popular tone that will engage pretty much anyone who has ever looked up at the sky with a sense of childlike wonder and adult curiosity. Weather nerds, stick this one in your library. You’ll reach for it more than once, not just to refresh yourself on cloud nomenclature, but also to remind yourself why you’re doing so.

1965 Palm Sunday Tornadoes: Great Forecasting, Poor Warning Infrastructure

The death toll for the historic 1965 Palm Sunday Outbreak varies depending on your source, but the number 271 packs the authority of a U. S. Weather Bureau survey submitted by a five-man team to Dr. Robert White, the chief of the bureau, just three weeks after the disaster. Add to it one known casualty from Iowa who lingered until after the report was released before succumbing to his wounds, and 272 is a reasonable tally.

However many deaths were in fact attributable to the Palm Sunday Tornadoes, the bottom line is, a shocking number of people perished in the 20th century’s second-worst tornado outbreak.

Why? Certainly there was no fault with the forecasting, which was as spot-on as you could possibly hope for, even without the benefit of all the severe weather parameters that exist today.

The research team appointed by Chief White asked that same question: what was the breakdown? Three weeks after conducting extensive surveys through the tornado-stricken six-state region, they had answers, and recommendations to accompany them that have shaped the course of both tornado research and operational forecasting.

The Weather Bureau Survey Team Report of Palm Sunday Tornadoes of 1965 is fascinating in a number of respects, not the least being the fact that in it, one can see the shape of things to come. Striking as well, amid the overall commendable efforts on the part of the various weather bureaus to warn the public, were a few notable communication disconnects. The report shows that the first two tornadoes of the outbreak struck at about the same time, 12:45 CST, in eastern Iowa. The first warning wasn’t issued until 1:00, fifteen minutes later.

In West Michigan, the Alpine Avenue F4 tornado in northwest Grand Rapids, which leveled the Swan Inn and tracked as far as Rockford, struck at the same time that the first warning was issued. Ditto for the town of Burnips, located fifteen miles southwest of Grand Rapids. Residents in the beginning paths of these tornadoes had zero lead time. Two hours later to the east, in similar fashion, Radnor, Ohio, received its warning at the same time that a tornado was tearing its way through town. As for Marion, Indiana, seven minutes advance notice was probably very little better than nothing.

Remember, in those days, civil defense sirens weren’t sounded during tornado warnings in Great Lakes communities. The only means of alerting the public to imminent danger was radio and TV, and those depended, of course, on people being tuned in to them.

The long and short of it is, the warning system back then was nothing like what we have today. We’ve come a tremendously long way in 45 years. Many of the strides we’ve taken were first set in motion by the research and recommendations of the Palm Sunday Outbreak survey team. If anything good can be said about the mayhem of that dark April evening, it is that out of its tragic losses arose advances in the public warning system that continue to do a marvelously effective job of saving lives today.

Ooohhh, My Aching Back!

Lately I’ve been trying to bring my posts closer to a daily frequency, but let me tell you, back pain can hang up pretty much any activity, even writing.

It doesn’t take much to catapult a person into agony. In fact, sometimes it doesn’t seem to take anything at all. Monday, feeling not even a minor, lurking discomfort to suggest that anything was amiss, I arose from my La-Z-Boy reclining couch and suddenly felt an all-too-familiar, electric tweak in my lower back muscles. It was the kind of sensation that doesn’t instantly cripple you, but you know, if you’ve had prior experience with it, that it’s just the beginning. The tweak is going to skyrocket over the next few minutes to a zenith of intense and thoroughly debilitating misery before slowly subsiding over the ensuing week. You will not be running any marathons during that time.You will not even be bending over, and you will have to take a creative new approach to putting on your underwear.

The long and short of it is, I’ve been flat on my back these past couple of days, popping aspirin, taking hot baths, lying on my heating pad, and gradually regaining functionality. Fortunately, the problem has been muscular in nature, not a slipped disk. And it has almost been worth the pain to be so beautifully looked after by my sweetheart, Lisa. But my mind hasn’t been able to wrap itself around blogging. I’ve spent a lot of time just lying here on the floor with my head propped up on pillows and a heating pad tucked under my back, watching the birds at the feeder.

I thought I’d drop y’all a quick note just to stay in touch. I’ll be writing more about saxophone- and weather-related stuff once I’m in the mood. Right now, I have a copywriting project I absolutely have to get to. Yack at you in a day or two.

Bob

Sixth Interval Exercises for Jazz Improvisation

Two posts ago, I talked about the use of the sixth as a sort of sweetening agent in improvised solos. If you haven’t yet done so, I recommend that you read that article before proceeding with the following exercises. It’s always good to understand a little about the whys and wherefores of what you’re doing, particularly when it comes to connecting saxophone technique with jazz improvisation.

One thing I didn’t mention in the previous post, and an important point at that, is the angularity that sixths bring to a musical line. Broad interval that they are, sixths are by definition intensely angular, and as such provide a colorful and interesting way to break up a linear flow.

The three exercises on this page are all based on the C major scale. (Click on the image to enlarge it.) The first exercise features basic sixth diads, moving up and then back down an octave.

The second exercise begins on the third of the C major scale (the note E) and moves up a sixth to the tonic C, thereby strongly implying the C major chord and establishing the key center. The exercise moves downward from there, incorporating the added color of passing tones and chromatic lower neighbors.

Exercise three, ascending an octave, approaches each lower note of the diads with a chromatic lower neighbor. While the result is a series of three-note groups, I’ve written the exercise in eighth notes rather than triplets to create a syncopated effect.

Consider each written exercise to be just the abbreviated form of what you actually need to practice. You should take all three exercises up and down through the entire range of your saxophone. You’re smart enough to figure out the missing pieces for yourself, and you should do so.

I suggest that you start by picking one pattern and memorizing it in all twelve keys, beginning with the first exercise. Then proceed to the next pattern and do likewise.

Yes, I know–I’m a drill sergeant and you hate me. But I promise you, all that hard work will pay big dividends with time. One of these days, you’ll thank me. Really. “Thank you, Bob,” you’ll say. Until then, my ego is tough enough to handle the lack of love.

Mid-40s and Rain: Enjoy It While You Can

Here it is, January 24, and are we residents of Michigan up to our waists in snow, fighting off polar bears and periodically detaching eight-inch snotsicles from our noses? Nooooo! We are staring out the window at a mostly snowless landscape drenched in rain as 45-degree temperatures and 40-degree dewpoints surge into the area in response to the low that’s presently centered just across Lake Michigan. KGRR even mentions the possibility of isolated thunderstorms south of I-96, and farther south, the SPC shows a 5 percent tornado outlook across parts of Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, and Florida. The squall line that is presently moving through Alabama looks pretty robust, and Dixie Alley may be poised for another visitation.

As for my fellow Michiganians, if you prefer warmth and rain to cold and ice, then these present conditions are pure January bliss. But if you’re a snow person, don’t worry, you’ll get your way. This relatively warm stretch of weather we’ve been enjoying for the last week or so is about to come to an end. Snow is in the forecast for tonight, and from here on we begin our plunge back into the twenties. Who knows when we’ll reemerge?

I’m not counting on its being anytime soon. I haven’t looked at the GFS lately, but I don’t need to in order to get the picture. Snow, snow, and more snow. Cold, cold, and more cold. The Grand Rapids WFO calls for very winter-like temperatures in the 20s through Saturday, and I doubt that the days following will alter that picture much. So, Nanook, don’t put away your parka just yet. You’ll still have plenty of use for it between now and April.

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.

Saxophone Mouthpiece Exercise (a Dignified Term for Screwing Around Making Weird Noises)

I stumbled upon the following saxophone mouthpiece exercise long before I really knew how to play the sax. Back when I was in high school, I needed some kind of trick to cover my butt when I was jamming with other musicians–typically rock bands in those days–and needed to disguise the fact that I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. One evening at a kegger, having exhausted my meager bag of licks, I got the sudden inspiration to pull my mouthpiece off of my horn and play it by itself. The idea certainly commanded attention, captivating my listeners for a good five seconds, though I’m not sure it was the most musical extravaganza they had ever experienced.

Anyway, many years down the road, I still make occasional use of the sax mouthpiece exercise. I’m not sure what else to call it, other than screwing around with the mouthpiece making sounds like a goose gargling. But in all seriousness, I believe you can find some value in the technique, both as a creative tool and as a means of sensitizing your oral chamber for purposes of tone color and pitch control.

The exercise is simple: cup your hands together to form a sort of pouch, as in the first picture (click on it to enlarge it). Then blow into the mouthpiece. You can then “play” the piece by opening and closing one hand, as in the second photo. The result is a sort of demented warble that sounds like some kind of marshland bird on an acid trip.

Them’s the basics, but of course, you’ll want to experiment. You can actually control the pitch with your hand, and you’ll also want to see what kinds of sounds and pitch-bending you can do by adjusting your embouchure. The point is to explore the colors you can generate using just your mouthpiece, your hands, and your embouchure and air column. You can get some surprisingly expressive effects. In my “Eyes on Mars” album with Ric Troll, I performed an entire piece using this technique. Is it music? I guess that depends on your philosophy of music, and frankly, I wasn’t thinking about the question at the time. I was just having fun trying something different and creative. You know–being a kid.

Give the saxophone mouthpiece exercise a try and see what you think. And check out my jazz page for more tips, technical exercises, and solo transcriptions to keep you occupied.

Ongoing Severe Weather in Dixie Alley

Looks like that surface low I wrote about a few posts ago is delivering its payload to Dixie Alley. Yesterday tornadoes spun down in northeast Texas and Louisiana, and now today it appears that the action will continue farther east.

I can’t help feeling a bit smug about the forecast and target area I sent to my chase partner, Bill Oosterbaan, who I believe has been down in Kentucky on business. After doing a quick-‘n-dirty scan of various NAM parameters and model soundings, I emailed him that he might have a crack at some action along I-40 between Jackson and Nashville, Tennessee.

With the 1630 SWODY1 now in, I see that my target area is in the heart of the SPC’s 5 percent tornado outlook. Tennessee may be under the gun in a while. Sure hope Bill is in a position to take advantage of the new year’s first chase opportunity.