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

Art Pepper: Sweet, Sad, and Soulful

I love Art Pepper”s playing! What a refreshing departure from the balls-to-the-walls bebop of the forties and fifties. An icon of what came to be known as the “West Coast style” of jazz, Pepper had a unique sound and improvisational approach that identify him instantly whenever you hear one of his recordings.

Tonally, Art Pepper was cut from a cloth similar to Paul Desmond. But the similarity doesn”t go very far. Pepper had the same silky, creamy texture as Desmond, but with a brittle, somewhat hard edge to it. Part fruitiness, part sigh.

Art”s improvisations are beautifully lyrical, liberally punctuated with a very personal sense of space. He delivers his ideas in crystalline clauses separated by semicolons and emdashes of breathing room. The overall effect is one I find completely captivating. No one else I”m aware of has ever duplicated it, and no one needs to. One Art Pepper is sufficient. I”m simply glad he was here, and that he left us such a lovely legacy in the way of musical expression.

nCheck out this recording of Art Pepper playing “Besame Mucho.” You”ll easily notice Art”s trademark sound and use of space. You”ll also pick up on the fact that the guy had a wonderful technique, one which served him well, not to mention those of us who admire his playing.

When you want a taste of something a little different–a blend of prettiness, sadness, and soul–listen to Art. He had a hard life, but his playing is tender and sweet.

February 13, 2008 by
Filed Under: Band, Entertainment, Jazz, Life, Music, Recording, Saxophone

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: , ,

The Rhythm Comedians

I miss the Rhythm Comedians! Over two years have elapsed since our little unit disbanded. The time had come; it happens that way for many creative group efforts involving musicians. We cohere for a while, then move on to other interests, or simply move apart. So it was with the Comedians. Yet, looking back, I feel grateful for the time I spent with leader, composer, and drummer Ric Troll, bassist Dave DeVos, violinist Pat Foley, and guitarist Jeff Boughner.

Jeff passed on not many months after the band broke up. His death came as a complete shock. I had seen him not long before, on New Years Eve at a gig in downtown Grand Rapids. He looked fine then. But a few weeks later, poof. Cancer. Gone. Unbelievable. One can get another guitarist, but not another Jeff. With his creative spark and gentle, congenial personality gone, the rest of us who comprised the Rhythm Comedians are left with some wonderful memories, and, thankfully, Ric”s backlog of Rhythm Comedians jazz originals on his jukebox at his Tallmadge Mill website.

For me, the zenith of my time with the Comedians was our April Fool concert at the Urban Institute for Contemporary Arts (UICA). With the extraordinary Kurt Ellenberger joining us on piano, I consider that event the height of our playing. The nice turn-out of friends, family, and area jazz lovers made the evening all the more memorable. But concert aside, it was the music, the creativity, and the cameraderie that made the Rhythm Comedians one of my most rewarding musical experiences.

To all you guys–Ric, Dave, Pat, and yes, to you, Jeff–thanks.

February 4, 2008 by
Filed Under: Band, Entertainment, Jazz, Life, Music, Saxophone

Made for Dancing

I love to watch people dance, and I get to do a lot of that on my monthly gig at Westwood at the Crossing. Over the past few months, Westwood has hosted weekly, Sunday evening dance lessons. Afterwards, the Westwood features live entertainment for the dance crowd. Once a month, it”s the Rhythm Section Jazz Band. On our night to howl, we get the dancers up and shakin” it to a hefty dose of big band swing and Latin music. That kind of material is eminently danceable: Basie, Ellington, the Dorsey brothers…it”s the stuff swing dance evolved out of. We have fun playing it, and the dancers have fun dancing to it.

Jazz covers a lot of territory, and much of it was created as dance music. I”ve spent considerable time on the side of the bandstand where music is made, and I”ve always enjoyed watching how people respond to the music out on the dance floor. Some folks just shuffle, and that”s fine. Others are truly fabulous dancers, and they are a real treat to watch.

Of course, not all jazz is good to dance to, nor is it intended to be. During my visit with my friend Kathy Bavaar in D.C. last December, we took in a jazz dinner at the Smithsonian. The featured band was an Afro-Cuban bop band. It was a world-class group made up of absolutely monstrous players, but I defy you to dance to their music. It”s too complex. The cross rhythms create all kinds of interest, but they seem to intentionally obscure the downbeat.

This is by no means an objection. I marvel at music of that caliber, music which is at once intricate, challenging, emotional, and beautiful. It has its own sense of swing–but most people”s feet won”t find it. There are exceptions, I”m sure, but they are likely to come in the form of very seasoned dancers who have steeped themselves in the complexities of Latin rhythms.

Some jazz is made for dancing. Some is made for listening. All of it is made for enjoyment and public consumption. Whatever your preference–whether madcap Dixieland, fast-paced bop, tender ballads, or floating fusion–if it puts a smile on your face, it has done its job.

February 1, 2008 by
Filed Under: Band, Entertainment, Event, Jazz, Music

Cannonball, Hard Bop, and “Work Song”

More on Cannonball, one of the inescapable (as if you’d want to escape him!) influences on contemporary alto sax players. We’re fortunate to have a sizable body of his work, featuring him as both a group leader and as a sideman, notably with Miles Davis.

Cannonball’s technical abilities were remarkable, but his style largely reflects a trend from the harmonic complexity of bebop to a simpler, more visceral approach. Don’t take “simpler” to mean “simple,” though. There’s nothing simple about the playing of Cannonball Adderley. He was a ferocious player, with an inventive, very personal way of weaving “outside” playing into a wonderfully earthy, “inside” overall conception.

To me, Cannon is the essence of the hard bop approach, which combined tunes most listeners could readily get a feel for with lessons learned from the bebop pioneers. Arguably, no better-known example of what I’m talking about exists in the Cannonball repertoire than “Work Song.” According to the YouTube notes, the following rendition of it was performed in 1964 for the BBC series, Jazz 625. I give you…”Work Song.”

UPDATE: The YouTube clip that existed at the time this post was first published has since been taken down. Too bad, because it was exceptional, and my following comments hinged on it. As a compensation, the above link now takes you to an alternative, 1962 rendition. Sorry, no Charles Lloyd on tenor, but Cannon still burns like crazy!

Geeze, do you think those guys could play, maybe? Just listen to how they build energy. By the time Charles Lloyd is wrapping up his tenor solo, I want to stamp my feet and yell like a crazy man. Cannonball exudes a real joie de vivre. His group must have had a lot of fun playing together!

In previous posts on Sonny Stitt and Phil Woods, I’ve noted those players’ economy of motion. Bop lines like the ones they weave have no business originating from men who seem to barely move their fingers. By contrast, watch Cannonball’s fingers. They’re all over the place. So…who wants to critique his technique? Not me, that’s for sure. Besides, I’m of the philosophy, “Whatever gets the job done.” When it comes to that, Cannonball had everything it took and way, way more.

January 21, 2008 by
Filed Under: Band, Entertainment, Jazz, Music, Saxophone, Video

Cannonball Adderley: Primitivo

Let’s talk about Cannonball Adderly. Better yet, let’s get an earful of him–or should I say, of his sextet. Cannon doesn’t take the spotlight in the tune you’re about to hear, preferring to let his other band members shine.

The year is 1962, and “Primitivo” is the name of the Cannonball composition. The title aptly describes this brooding, chant-like modal piece with its droning bass and loose yet relentless rhythmic feel. Yusef Lateef plays a marvelous, haunting oboe solo–no pyrotechnics, nothing fancy, just a beautiful use of motif, with phrases ending on the same pitch–a note that falls off at the end like a sigh.

There’s plenty more to say about this tune, but I’m talking too much. Let’s listen.

Wow. Talk about mood. Talk about colorful note and scale choices. Talk about rapport between musicians. This tune has it all.

January 18, 2008 by
Filed Under: Band, Entertainment, Jazz, Music, Recording, Saxophone, Video

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
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