Using Substitute Dominants

Sooner or later, if you haven’t done so already as a jazz improviser, you”re going to want to broaden your harmonic palette with substitute dominant chords.

Say that term, substitute dominant, and what immediately springs to mind for most musicians is what is also refer to as a tritone substitute, so called because the root is a diminished fifth–a tritone–away from the root of the dominant seventh chord in any given key. For instance, let’s say you’re in the key of C major. The dominant of C is G7. In traditional theory, the G7 is a major/minor seventh chord.

If you drop down a tritone from the G7 and build another major/minor seventh chord, you wind up with a Db7. That is your tritone substitute, the most commonly used substitute dominant.

Note that the Db7 is just a half-step above your tonic chord, C major. Now, you could use a a Db Mixolydian mode with it. But another good choice would be a Db Lydian flat seventh scale–i.e. Db, Eb, F, G, Ab, Bb, Cb, and Db octave. Note that, as is so often the case, a single note makes all the difference. In this case, simply raising the fourth scale degree of the Db Mixolydian mode a half-step, from Gb to G, gives you the Lydian flat seventh scale.

Now, here’s where things get particularly interesting: let’s say you want to inject a little color with an altered dominant, a G+7(#9). That chord immediately suggests that you”ll use a diminished whole tone scale. Guess what? The diminished whole tone scale uses the same notes as the Lydian flat seventh scale; the only difference is, it starts on the G instead of the Db. So in this case, you can use the same scale for either the altered dominant or the substitute dominant! Nice, eh?

One of the earmarks of the tritone substitute is that it flipflops the third and the seventh, which are critical tones in the function of the dominant sound. The flat seventh of the V7 chord is the third of the bII7 chord, and vice-versa. This means that no matter which chord you use, dominant or substitute dominant, the tritone interval between the third and the fifth remains, with all its tension that demands resolution to the tonic chord.

Using the substitute dominant in a ii-V7-I progression gives you ii-bII7-I. You can also alternate the dom/subdom sound on your journey toward the I, thus: V7-bII7-I.

By the way, the tritone substitute is nothing new. In Bach”s day, it was called a Neopolitan chord. Jazz is deeply rooted in European harmony; the genius behind it lies, in part, in how African American musicians fused that harmony with tonal colors and rhythmic approaches that no Western musician would have dreamed of. Jazz truly is a distinctly American art form.

January 5, 2009 by
Filed Under: Band, Christian Music, Jazz, Jazz Improvisation and Technique, Music, Saxophone

Reflections on the Old and New Years

As I begin this post, the year 2008 has just three hours left. There is much about it that I’m sure most of us won”t miss, but the downsides of life are all too easy to focus on, and we need no reminding of them. Instead, I’d like to thank God for a few of the blessings with which he has filled my life this past year.

I thank my Lord Jesus for…

* My close friends and family. You know who you are. I treasure you!

* Keeping me afloat financially as I”ve gone about forging a new direction as a freelance writer.

* Awesome storm chases in Missouri, Kansas, and Iowa–and my awesome storm chasing partners, Bill, Kurt, and Tom.

* The simple, wonderful gift of good beer.

* My new DSLR camera, and how it is helping me to view the world with an artist”s eye.

* The gift of music, and of growth as a saxophonist and jazz improviser.\r\n* So many, many other blessings, some of which I’m aware and others of which I’m unaware. Such is the grace of Christ.

* Finally, but really first and above all, the Lord himself. For his kindness. For his friendship. For his discipline, and guidance, and for his life that has become my life.

Thank you, Lord, for this year of 2008. Above all, thank you for You.

To all who read these words…

…to musicians, and songwriters, and singers, and all whose souls have been shaped by the melodymaker’s craft…

…to storm chasers, and weather fanatics, and those who have fallen in love with the hiss of inflow over prairie grasses, and the convective sculptures of the Great Plains…

…I salute you! Here”s to a Happy New Year!

This evening, the sun sets on 2008. Tomorrow, for better or worse, 2009 dawns on us all. In the face of a troubled planet, may the grace of the Messiah spring up in unexpected places and cause this next twelve-month”s time to be a hopeful and rewarding one.

Wishing you blessing, prosperity, wisdom, inner peace, and a deepened capacity to live the life God created you to live,

Bob

Aka “Storm”

December 31, 2008 by
Filed Under: Church Worship, Jazz, Life, Music, Saxophone, Storm Chasing

Jazz Improvisation E-Book: Another Update

Writing an e-book on jazz improv is definitely a challenge. The going is slow, since I’m still faced with the exigencies of life and the need to make a living. That being said, though, I am making progress.

In the process of writing, I find myself necessarily considering my approach. Any number of ways exist to accomplish the same end in jazz. A whopping amount of educational material also exists that says pretty much the same thing. After all, this isn’t a new topic, and I”m hardly the first person to write about it. How, then, can I offer value–something not different merely for the sake of being different, but something whose distinctions can help budding improvisers to better grasp at least some of the essentials of jazz craftsmanship?

As a street-level, self-appointed educator rather than a degreed, college-level didact, I myself am learning by doing, and my first lesson has been: start simple. I can’t possibly cover all there is to know about jazz improvisation in one book; such a book would have no end, and besides, I myself have still got plenty to learn. So I”ll probably write several books. This first effort will be for beginning improvisers. Note that I didn’t say beginning musicians. I”m assuming that anyone with an interest in improvisation already knows the basics of music theory, and while I do cover some of those basics, readers should already understand how a major scale is built, and what the church modes are, and what intervals are, and triads, and seventh chords, and so forth. Such things comprise the building blocks of all Western music; my interest is to help aspiring jazz instrumentalists assemble them in a way that fits the overall jazz genre.

In my approach, I hope to help players connect their inner ear with technical finesse, so that technique and the ability to “hear” develop together. We want to be able to not only conceive cool lines, but also to “feel” them in every key, even the weird keys such as concert E, B, or F#.

At the moment, chapter four is underway. It covers the unaltered dominant seventh chord and the Mixolydian mode. No need to say more, other than, stay tuned.

December 30, 2008 by
Filed Under: Band, Christian Music, Jazz, Jazz Improvisation and Technique, Saxophone

Phrygian Dominant Licks: Capturing the Essence of Minor Bebop

The harmonic minor scale was the first scale I learned to apply in a minor jazz setting over an altered dominant chord. No doubt that was because it was the easiest, but it also seemed to me to be the most consistent with the vocabulary of bebop a la Charlie Parker. Just as a given major scale generates the appropriate Mixolydian mode for the dominant of its key, so a harmonic minor scale produces a scale that works well with its dominant. Known as the Phrygian dominant (aka Jewish scale, Gypsy scale, or Spanish scale), this scale works beautifully with V7b9 chords. With its lowered sixth, and with the minor third interval between its lowered second and major third, it possesses an evocative, Eastern quality that makes me think of belly dancers and snake charmers.

The scale you’re likeliest to learn as the first choice for V7b9 chords is the half/whole diminished. It’s certainly a time-saver, as you need learn only three of this symmetrical scale in order to know all twelve. But the Phrygian dominant has an exotic beauty to it that the diminished scale doesn’t quite capture, and a built-in ease of use rooted in its relationship to the parent minor key.

phrygiandominantexcercises
In a previous post, I offered a couple of written exercises on major triad couplets. Now, in the spirit of Bird, here are three licks utilizing the A Phrygian dominant scale. The first and third one resolve to the tonic chord of D minor; the second is just a straight A7b9 lick, but you can still resolve it to the D minor–it just waits longer to define that chord.

As always, memorize each exercise in all twelve keys. And have fun!

[ADDENDUM: I just noticed that, in the third exercise, I didn’t include a Bb in the key signature. Please mentally insert it so you’re playing in the key of D minor and the ninth of the A7 chord is flatted.]

December 15, 2008 by
Filed Under: Band, Christian Music, Jazz, Music, Saxophone

Michael Brecker on Practicing

Oh, man! Gold mine! Check out this video of Michael Brecker talking about his practice regimen.

I find two things particularly noteworthy:

1. As phenomenal a saxophonist as Michael Brecker was, he never considered himself to have arrived. He continued to practice voraciously, experiencing the same ebbs and floes in his woodshedding and musical growth as anyone else.

2. Michael was always reaching for new ideas. But it took him a long time and hard work to master those ideas. In his own words, he was a slow learner.

Huh? Brecker–slow? Gee, I guess the guy actually had to pay real dues to become as good as he was.

One aspect of inspiration is encouragement. I find it encouraging to think that Brecker was actually human. He didn”t just come out of the womb playing the saxophone that brilliantly. He sweated over his instrument.

Of course I already knew that. Still, listening to those recordings of Michael, I lose track of the fact that he wasn”t superhuman. Gifted he was, most definitely, but he still had to do what any of us have to do in order attain proficiency on our instrument: practice. Hearing someone who played at such a high level talk so openly and humbly about his personal challenges in continuing to grow musically…well, it just helps, that”s all. I mean, for all the time I”ve spent working on my horn, I sometimes get discouraged thinking how much I have yet to learn, and how long it has taken me just to get to where I”m at.

So I appreciate a guy like Michael Brecker sharing so transparently. His doing so helps me realize I”m no dummy. I”m just normal. And I”m in pretty good company.

Kudos, by the way, to Jazz-Sax.com, where I found the above YouTube clip. It”s a site you”ll definitely want to check out and add to your bookmarks.

February 15, 2008 by
Filed Under: Band, Christian Music, Jazz, Music, Saxophone, Video

Of Foxes and Saxophones

In my last post, I established that cows make a great jazz audience. Given their rapt enthusiasm for my saxophone playing, I might even opt for a roomful of them over people, provided they pay at the door, order a few drinks, and tip the waitress. Then again, cows are notorious for hygienic indiscretion, so I guess I”ll go with people after all, at least until the day when Depends for cows hits the market.

So much for cows. On to foxes.

Early one morning on my way to work, driving through the countryside near the airport, I pulled my car onto the shoulder by a broad meadow. With half an hour to kill, I assembled my horn, figuring I”d get in a little sax practice to start the day off right.

As I stood there serenading the sunrise, I noticed a riffling motion in the weeds a hundred feet off to my right. Out of the tall grass emerged a red fox. It edged closer…closer…to within maybe sixty feet from me. Then it sat, its head cocked, watching intently as I played. After a minute, apparently deciding I was safe, the fox moved closer still, then sat again and listened. From the studious look on its face, I figured it was analyzing my licks, absorbing them for possible use in its own playing.

Hard to say how long the little guy sat there–maybe five minutes, maybe even longer. Eventually he got up and, casting a couple backward glances, trotted off.

What a gift! As much as I love the countryside and as much time as I”ve spent in it, I nevertheless have seen foxes only a handful of times. They”re retiring creatures which prefer not to be seen. But like many other animals, they seem to have a fascination for music. That one would allow its curiosity to overcome its natural fear of man in such a way, for what strikes me as a pretty lengthy amount of time, is something I consider remarkable–or at least, very, very cool.

On a fishing trip in Ontario several years ago, I packed in my soprano sax. In the evening, after a full day of fishing, I would sit on the rocky shore of the wilderness island where my buddies and I were camped, playing my horn and listening to the loons call back from across the waters. The antiphony was haunting and beautiful. Those were magical twilights, filled with loon song, the scent of white pine, and the voices and laughter of friends.

What a rich creation God has given us! And what an incredible treasure is music, connecting humans with the wild things of the earth and giving us glimpses of how things were meant to be–and how they once were long, long ago, back in the Garden.

February 13, 2008 by
Filed Under: Band, Christian Music, Humor, Jazz, Life, Music, Nature

Playing Sax Till the Cows Come Home

I play for cows.

Seriously.

At the western edge of my small hometown of Caledonia, bordering the parking lot of a Catholic church, there sits a large cow pasture. During the warm months, I periodically park my car out there on the far edge of the church lot and practice my saxophone.

The results are always rewarding. It’s an amazing thing to watch scores of cows come drifting in to check me out. Evidently, cows love a good concert.

They’re particularly responsive to high notes. Musically speaking, there’s nothing a cow appreciates so much as a good, screaming altissimo. Work your horn a little bit in that top register and watch those cattle come prancing in to stare at you with intense curiosity. It’ so gratifying. I promise you, you’ll never find a more attentive audience, or a more appreciative one. Cows are good for a musician’s ego.

And responsive? Hoo-wee! Cows are moved* by jazz. Inhibition to the wind, baby, that’s a cow crowd for you. One cow will think nothing of mounting another cow whenever the mood seizes it, and gender evidently isn’t much of a concern. When those cow hormones are running hot, all it takes is a little jazz sax to inspire some hot young heifer to attempt things she wasn’t designed for. Cows are the original Woodstock generation.

If your practice routine has settled into the doldrums and you’d like to shake it up with something a little different, I highly recommend cows. Head to the nearest pasture for your next session, start blowing, and watch what happens. It is truly a weird sight to see a hundred bovine lined up along the fence, watching you intently and all but snapping their hooves to the music.

Give it a try. You may even get fan letters, though I wouldn’t answer them if I were you.

_______________

* Being a man of taste, I have avoided the obvious pun. I refuse to say mooooved in any of my writings about cows, and have carefully avoided doing so here.**

** But not here. Mooooved.

February 12, 2008 by
Filed Under: Band, Christian Music, Entertainment, Humor, Jazz, Life, Music, Saxophone Tagged With: , ,

Taking Time to Listen

Silence.

Space, a place to listen.

In all the programming that goes into what we call a church service, particularly in “praise and worship,” taking time to still ourselves enough to hear and respond to the Holy Spirit seems to be the one thing we haven”t fit into the schedule. Probably that”s because God”s voice–the real thing, not the spiritualized weirdnesses that often masquerade as it–is the one thing we can”t manufacture, and therefore, can”t program in.

But it”s also the one thing people, both Christians and those exploring Christianity, long for above all else. Not evangelical sing-alongs, no matter how talented the musicians. Not great preaching, no matter how gifted the preacher or relevant the message. These things are fine, but they can”t touch the heart”s deepest hunger. Only God can do that. Everything else is just a tool.

Tools are good when used right. But tools can be noisy–sometimes too noisy. We can become so fixated on our tools that we forget they”re just a means to an end. They can drown out the voice of the One we seek to encounter.

When I read through the book of 1 Corinthians, chapters twelve through fourteen, I”m struck by one thing: when those early believers came together, they expected God to show up as well. And they made room for him to have his way. While Paul was writing to correct some of the problems which arose from the human part of that equation, let”s not lose track of what those problems signify. The Holy Spirit is real. The question isn”t whether he”ll talk to us; it”s whether we”ll listen.

Are we willing to submit our carefully planned, thoughtfully timed worship order to God? What would happen if we started thinking of silence and listening as an integral part of our worship experience? What if we were to risk taking our corporate worship beyond just singing, clapping, and raising our hands–which in themselves can get pretty rote and mechanical–to points of encounter where we learn to “be still, and know that [the Lord is] God”?

Listening.

Learning to hear, truly hear, the voice and the heart of another person.

It”s one of the most relational things we can possibly do. It is critically important in our relationship with God. He himself is a great listener, but he has things to say as well. Giving him a little room to do so could transform our experience of what church is about. It could also move and refresh the hearts of non-Christians, as they encounter a gathering of believers that is neither mere religious entertainment on the one hand, nor a spiritual freak show on the other, but a setting of genuine communion, where people listen for and respond to the voice of Jesus with genuineness, gentleness, self-discernment, sobriety, humility, and love.

January 25, 2008 by
Filed Under: Christian Music, Church Worship, Life

Church Music

I’ve been a follower of Jesus for nearly thirty years now, and from day one, I”ve played my saxophone as one of the means God has given me to worship him. I love doing so. However, I”m afraid the word worship is fraught with preconceptions and bad theology among Christians, and over the years, I’ve concluded I can’t live up to some of the expectations that arise as a result.

What do I mean? The best way I can explain myself is to consider a common saying among Christians in regard to the role of church musicians. To hear it told, my job is to “usher people into the presence of God.” I used to believe that, but today, I don’t think it’s possible. I can”t conjure up God’s presence, and I can’t cause people to experience it. The best I can do is simply worship God myself with earnestness and passion, whether with my instrument, or my voice, or simply in listening and silence. The rest is up to God and individual hearts.

Worship is an organic, intimate experience, and it deviates from person to person. One person may be filled with joy, and exuberant praise comes naturally to him; another may be struggling with a broken heart, and tears are the truest expression of her connection with God. A few seats down sits a couple who got into a nasty argument before church, and who are too pissed off at each other to feel very good about being in church at all right now. And those examples are just for starters.

In the midst of all the variables in even a small gathering, I’m supposed to “usher people into God”s presence”? Sorry, but I”m a musician, not a magician. I can”t usher anyone anywhere. Worship is part heart attitude and part divine action. It isn”t about selecting the right tunes, or about getting everyone to clap, or raise their hands, or dance, or any of that. Worship is a condition of the heart, and nothing I do can produce it in others. The best I can do is cultivate it in myself, and express it in ways that hopefully will free up others to follow me. Beyond that, I enter into spiritual manipulation, and I”m not willing to go there. I”ve seen too much of it, and it never bears good fruit.

Do I believe the Holy Spirit shows up in the midst of worship? Absolutely. But I can’t make him do so, nor can I determine how he will do so. I do think too many churches are so preoccupied with seamless musical productions they call “praise and worship” that they don’t give the Lord much opportunity to get a word in edgewise. I wonder how differently we would approach the act of corporate worship if we actually expected God to show up–if we really believed that he might have something to communicate or accomplish that placed the focus on his performance, not ours. Perhaps we”d be less concerned with smooth segues from one tune to the next, and more concerned with listening for his voice.

On the day of Pentecost, no mention is made of a well-rehearsed praise band facilitating the event which transpired in that upper room. As a church musician, I find this thought humbling, reassuring, and freeing. It allows me to keep things simple, and not make more of myself than I am. Because it’s not about me, it’s about Jesus. I’m just a man who plays the saxophone, and who loves God, and who has been given the gift of music as a language to express my love to my Lord. Hopefully, in what I and my fellow praise team members play, you will find something that frees and inspires you to find your own voice, be it song, or laughter, or tears, or whatever it is that most genuinely expresses your connection with God in the moment.

If you’ve prepared your heart through prayer, you’ll encounter God on your own, and if not, God may choose to initiate contact anyway, just because he loves you. Worship musicians can enhance an atmosphere for such a connection, but that’s about it. The rest is up to you and God.

It’s a matter of the heart.

January 13, 2008 by
Filed Under: Band, Christian Music, Church Worship, Entertainment, Jazz, Life, Music, Saxophone, Uncategorized

Of Jazz and Whirlwinds

Last Saturday I played a big band gig in Bay City, Michigan.

Monday I intercepted a tornadic thunderstorm in Columbia, Missouri.

Those two pursuits–jazz music and storm chasing–may seem miles apart, but the passion that drives them is the same. And I have to think, as a person in whom both interests dwell with equal intensity, that they are related in other ways as well.

Each is, at heart, a search for beauty.

Each is a compelling and richly satisfying adventure, one that revels in exploration, challenge, intensity, wildness, and something within me that is bigger than myself.

Each unites knowledge and an endless thirst to learn with intuition and an unquenchable desire to experience something sublime.

In jazz, I prepare myself through countless practice sessions that culminate in the joy of a well-crafted improvisation. In storm chasing, my preparation lies in honing my forecasting skills, and the payoff is standing on a Kansas roadside, watching a tornado dance across the prairie a mile away.

In both pursuits, the discipline required is rewarding in its own right. Yet that adult quality of discipline leads ultimately to being caught up in the moment in a way that lets the child in me run wild and free.

In a jazz, solo, I’m swept up in the swirl of the music, the rush of ideas that tumble from my imagination into my fingers and out the bell of my horn. At the edge of a storm, I”m caught up in the environment; I feel the inbounds racing around me toward the updraft base, watch twirling filaments reach earthward from a rapidly morphing wall cloud, and yell in exuberance at the wildness of it all.

Both in playing jazz and chasing storms, in different ways, I encounter my heavenly Father. I experience his magnificent creativity, his awesome power, his childlike playfulness, and his tremendous worth. In jazz, I participate in God’s creative nature, and in so doing, I reflect it back to him as worship. In storm chasing, I stand apart from an act of creativity far too immense and uncontrollable for me to ever participate in. I can only admire it “in awesome wonder”–and see in it the face of the great Creator, and feel his extravagant, untamed pleasure.

One of my life goals is to get a decent video clip of myself playing my saxophone out on the Great Plains as a huge honking wedge tornado churns in the background a mile away. Crazy? Damn right. I like being crazy that way. It’s how God wired me. It’s a part of who I am–and the reason why this website is named Stormhorn.com.

January 10, 2008 by
Filed Under: Church Worship, Entertainment, Jazz, Life, Music, Storm Chasing
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