Sax Practice by the Airport–Now Verboten?

It seems that practicing the saxophone now poses a threat to homeland security.

Surprised? Not nearly as surprised as I was when I first found out last night.

I surely wasn’t aware of the risk I presented when I parked my car near the railroad tracks at the end of Kraft Avenue, a stone’s throw from the hurricane fence that circumscribes the perimeter of the Gerald R. Ford International Airport. I’ll grant you, it’s an unusual location for a person to hang out at, but it’s by no means anything new for me. I’ve been parking there with varying frequency for roughly 25 years, practicing my saxophone and watching the trains go by.

Of course I’ve been checked out numerous times by the police. I haven’t minded at all; rather, I’ve appreciated that the cops have been on their toes and diligent in doing their jobs. The officers, in turn, have invariably been courteous and usually friendly, and often enough I’ve enjoyed some pleasant conversations with them. Once they determined that I was eccentric but harmless, they always drove off and left me to practice my horn in peace. Over time, a number of them came to recognize me. (Cop, peering in at me: “Oh, it’s you. Enjoy your evening!” Heads back to car and drives away.)

I’ve never had any problems at that location. Not ever. Until last night, that is, when suddenly and inexplicably everything changed.

What I’m about to share is not a rant. I’m not angry, just sad. Maybe once I gain a better understanding of whatever federal laws and/or local ordinances I’m dealing with, I will feel angry at having been jerked around. Or maybe I’ll just have a better understanding of what happened. Right now, though, I have the sense that the policeman I encountered last night was simply doing what he believed was the right thing. He didn’t project a nasty, belligerent, or power-drunk attitude; he was simply adamant that I had to leave my practice spot by the railroad tracks and not practice there in the future.

Just like that. It’s kind of like being told that the old fishing hole where you’ve fished for a quarter of a century is suddenly off limits. You’re given a reason, but it doesn’t ring true, and you get the sense that something you value has been taken from you without your ever having a voice in the matter.

Why all of a sudden? If homeland security was really the issue, which is what I was told, then why did none of the scores of other police officers I’ve encountered in that location over the long years ever mention it to me? Even in the tense months following 9/11, no cop ever requested that I relocate due to security concerns. Not that security–albeit not homeland security that I’m aware–hasn’t always been an issue in that spot. Some of the cops told me that vandalism had sometimes been a problem, and on a couple of occasions I was able to answer questions by the police concerning other visitors at the site. I’d like to think that my presence there has proved, if anything, helpful at times rather than a liability.

So here’s what happened: I was hashing out the Charlie Parker solo to “Dewey Square” yesterday evening when a police car pulled up behind me and the spotlight appeared in my mirror. No sweat; as I’ve mentioned, I’m used to having law enforcement check me out. I set down my horn in the passenger seat, handed the officer my driver’s license upon his request, and then waited while he ran a background check on me. He returned to my vehicle in a couple of minutes and handed me back my license, and at that point I figured things were clear and I could get back to my practicing.

Not so. The cop informed me that I was trespassing (perhaps because I had pulled off the road closer to the tracks, where I could see the semaphore lights, but that had never been an issue before); that I was parked in a high-risk zone less than 100 feet from airport property; and that in order to avoid compromising homeland security, he needed me to move.

Say what?

I reiterated to the officer–I had already mentioned it to him when he first appeared at my window–that I had a long and trouble-free history of practicing at this site; that I was here because the place was convenient and I enjoyed watching the trains go by; that I had been checked out countless times by the police over the years and never experienced any problem; that some of the cops had become familiar with my unusual but harmless habit; that never once had any of them asked me to move; and that this was the first time anyone had ever mentioned the issue of homeland security.

The officer in turn suggested that I relocate to the airport viewing area on the far side of the airport, where I could watch the planes. I appreciated that he was trying to offer what to him seemed like a reasonable solution, but I repeated that I liked to watch the trains. Again he raised the security issue.

“Look,” I said, “I’m not out to argue with you. I’ll leave if you insist. But I’m trying to wrap my mind around what you’re telling me, because for as many years as I’ve been coming here, and as many times as the police have checked me out, this is the first time I’ve ever been told me to leave.”

The officer said he was sorry, but that I would have to find another place to practice. Henceforth I would have to consider this location off limits.

Wow. After 25 years, suddenly out of the clear blue somebody sticks a “No Fishing” sign right in front of my nose at the old fishing hole.

Very well; I had made my case, and it’s my policy not to argue with law enforcement officers. They are, after all, the embodiment of the law, and even when I don’t agree with them, I will comply with them. As I’ve already said, this cop didn’t come across as nasty, just inflexible, and I don’t know what realities he was dealing with. Perhaps a recent change in local ordinances, or even federal law, required him to deal with me differently than what I had experienced in the past.

Then again, maybe nothing at all had changed and the guy was just being a jerk. I don’t know–right now. But I will make a point of finding out. If I need to secure some form of permissions from CSX or the airport, I’ll pursue that avenue. I hate to have a convenient and enjoyable practice place that I’ve resorted to for so many years get suddenly and seemingly arbitrarily yanked out from under me.

Even more, though, I hate the erosion of freedom that such an event reflects.

Guest Post: Saxophone and Storms

Every once in a while I like to feature a post by a guest blogger from the worlds of either storm chasing or jazz. Today let me introduce to you my buddy Neal Battaglia. Neal is a tenor man who maintains a wonderful blog on jazz saxophone called SaxStation.com. The site covers acres of territory of interest to saxophonists. If you’re not already familiar with it, then you owe it to yourself to check it out.

After contemplating the nature of my own site, with its odd blend of wild winds and woodwinds, Neal is here to share his thoughts in a post titled…

Saxophone and Storms

By Neal Battaglia, SaxStation.com

Initially, storms and saxophones seemed an odd combination to me.

On this site, I would read Bob’s posts on saxophone, but not always the ones about storms.

However, when I thought about it for a minute, a number of musicians enjoy nature and are inspired by it. And storms are some of the most extreme examples of nature.

One of my favorite trumpet players, Freddie Hubbard, had a record called “Outpost.” The cover shows a lone farmhouse out in a wide-open plain with a storm beginning to brew overhead. When you listen to the tracks, you really hear the movement of the storm–the lead-in to it, the calm in the middle, and the conditions afterward.

My all time favorite saxophone player, Stanley Turrentine, recorded an album called “Salt Song.”  On it is a tune that I like a lot called “Storm.”

These two masters both took musical ideas from many places, reminding me that music is a reflection of our experiences. Your life comes out to be shared with the audience when you improvise on saxophone and write music.

In October of 2009, I took three planes across the country to Nashville and eventually arrived in the backwoods for a “music and nature” class. It was an awesome experience.

The guy in charge of that class recorded an album called  “‘Thunder.”

Nature in general and storms specifically seem to act as a muse for musicians. They are something that we all experience (although possibly less if you’re an extreme city slicker). And music transcends language barriers.  So you can feel storms by listening.

Jamming with the Guys

As the fall season progresses and the flow du jour remains northwesterly, I’m glad I’ve got music to keep me occupied. Ridging may be a storm chaser’s nightmare, but here in Michigan it’s a color tourist’s dream as the slanting sun illuminates hillsides ablaze with scarlet, yellow, purple, orange, and the summer’s last green. Now, in this poet’s season, is when the musician in me comes alive.

Thursday’s gig with keyboard monster Paul Lesinski at The Seasonal Grille in Hastings, Michigan, went beautifully. It’s amazing how much music a sax player can make with just a piano accompaniment when the pianist is as gifted as Paul.

Of course, nothing can beat playing with a complete rhythm section of hugely competent players. That was the setting this morning into the early afternoon at Ric Troll’s studio west of Grand Rapids. It’s a privilege and a joy to make music with players the caliber of Ric, Randy Marsh, and Dave DeVos. Today, it was doubly nice to break away from the usual American songbook repertoire and work on some original material by Ric plus a couple of Pat Metheny tunes. Don’t get me wrong, I love the old standards. But I really welcome the opportunity to explore fresh directions that call for a different approach, free from the cliches that are so easy to fall into with the traditional 32-bar song form.

I had thought that today would be a recording session, but it didn’t turn out that way. Some of the tunes are quite challenging–one, with it’s three-against-four polymeter, took me a good while to digest–and I think Ric’s goal for this session was for all of us to simply get a feel for the music. Can’t fault him there, though there were some very nice moments that I’d have loved to listen to the replay of. Maybe next time. And I hope we can make that next time soon. I really like what came out of today’s creative ferment, and once we’ve got the material down tight, I think we’ll have the makings of a very nice recording.

More on Saxophone Double-Tonguing

Lately, during the parts of my practice sessions that I devote to double-tonguing, I’ve noticed a change. The technique is becoming smoother, the notes more connected and better sounding. I’m now double-tonguing scales, licks, and patterns in sixteenth notes with increasing comfort and accuracy throughout the full range of my saxophone at a tempo up to 140 mm. While I may not make any great gains in speed anytime soon, I can definitely tell the difference in accuracy and quality of sound since my last post on double-tonguing.

What is making the difference? Several things, I think.

* A responsive reed. I’ve found that having the right reed makes a big difference in how well I’m able to execute double-tonguing. A reed that combines instant responsiveness with just enough resistance to be lively–the kind of crisp, richly resonant reed that is a joy to play–is also the ideal reed for double-tonguing. Reeds that are too hard get balky in double-tonguing, and reeds that are too soft have their intonation issues amplified.

For most playing demands, I can get by with a fairly broad spectrum of reeds, but double-tonguing seems to be a finickier technique in that regard.

* Reversing the double-tongue syllable order. Instead of playing “da-ga-da-ga,” I’ll do some exercises using single tones as well as scales starting with the glottal articulation first, thus: “ga-da-ga-da.” I also practice articulation using my glottis only: “ga-ga-ga-ga.” My aim is to develop the response in the back of my throat.

This approach really helps! Try it yourself. Warm up with a minute or two of these glottal exercises, then shift to the standard double-tonguing pattern, “da-ga-da-ga,” and see whether you don’t notice an improvement.

* As an adjunct to the preceding point, practice all of the above articulations without your horn. See how fast you can do them, and pay attention to any subtle changes you’re making as you build up speed. I use this “dry firing” approach when I’m driving in my car. What better way to put my drive time to good use?

* Practice. That’s right–practice. There’s no magical secret for learning double-tonguing. One simply has to stick with it. As I do so, I’m finding that my embouchure, oral chamber, tongue, and air stream are intuitively making the adjustments they need to make. Also, as I work at connecting double-tonguing with scales and licks, my fingering technique is becoming cleaner. It has to in order to link up precisely with the rapid articulation of double-tonguing.

I’m at a point now where this technique is becoming a functional part of my playing. Not that I use it often, but I am using it more frequently in a variety of applications with increasing success.

An article by the Peabody Institute states that “a fast single tongue can articulate sixteenth notes at quarter note equals 152. Some people can even reach speeds of up to 168 for brief periods. The double tongue can achieve speeds as high as of 232!”

Hmmm…okay. My own single-tonguing is by no means up to to the speed of these racehorses. Of course, I haven’t really worked at it, but according to the article, some saxophonists can single-tongue faster than I can presently double-tongue. That’s fine with me. I’m not out to win any speed contests, just grow as a player. My guess is that most saxophonists who read this article and my other articles on double-tonguing are more daunted by than adept at the technique, so I figured I would share my personal journey as I took on the challenge of learning it.

The Peabody article also says, “The double tonguing technique is a natural technique that is actually simple to learn and master. A few weeks of hard work can produce remarkable results.”

That has not been my experience. Of course, I’m not a Peabody student under the tutelage of a master saxophone professor. I’m a self-didact guided by no instructor other than my own instincts. I will say that at the very beginning, double-tonguing indeed came to me with ridiculous ease, and right out of the gate I was executing sixteenth notes like machine gun fire. Then I put the horn in my mouth, and suddenly it all fell apart. I was left with the realization that the technique was going to take work, patience, and dogged persistence.

Today, not quite a year later, I can tell you that the persistence pays off. Whether I’ll ever be able to double-tongue sixteenth notes at 232 mm, or even 200, only time will tell. What’s certain for now is that this technique which can seem so formidable and frustrating at the beginning is one that a saxophonist can actually acquire and use with increasing mastery. If I can pull it off, so can you. You just have to make up your mind that you’re going to do it–and then follow through with patience and consistency.

This Week: Gig and Recording Project

I’m pleased to say that all the time I’ve been spending these days practicing my saxophone is going to get some practical application. This week Thursday, October 7, I’ll be playing with keyboardist Paul Lesinski at The Seasonal Grille in downtown Hastings, Michigan. Then Saturday, I’ll be getting together for a recording project over at Tallmadge Mill studios west of Grand Rapids.

THURSDAY’S GIG: October 7, the town of Hastings is promoting a Ladies’ Night on the Town. With The Seasonal Grille offering a combination of wonderful ambiance, superb Italian cuisine at eminently affordable prices, and a good selection of wines and beers, I’m sure the place will be doing a thriving business. I’m pleased to be providing the music there with Paul. Come on out and get a mouthful, an earful, and a beerful!

Place: The Seasonal Grille

Address: 150 W. State Street in downtown Hastings, Michigan

Phone: (269) 948-9222

Time: 6:00-9:00 p.m.

SATURDAY RECORDING SESSION: I’m really excited about this! The guys I’m getting together with are some of my musical heroes. Ric Troll, owner of Tallmadge Mill Studio and organizer of the get-together, is not only an extremely tasty drummer, and more recently a guitarist, but also a wonderful composer. Anything I could say about him would be too little, and that goes for the rest of the guys as well. Randy Marsh, Kurt Ellenberger, and Dave DeVos are not merely superb players, they’re also fantastic, complete musicians, widely known and respected in West Michigan. I’m thrilled that I’ll be playing some original music with them this weekend. Look for cuts from the session here on Stormhorn.com in the future as they become available.

That’s the news for now. It’s late and I’m tired. Time to call it a night.

Now Available: Bass Clef Edition of “The Giant Steps Scratch Pad”

A few minutes ago I completed the last of the downloads, filled in the information fields, and then, with one final click of the mouse, published the bass clef edition of “The Giant Steps Scratch Pad.”

At last! I can finally say that I’ve accomplished the goals I set for this book as it evolved from my initial concept to something considerably more ambitious. The “Scratch Pad” is now available in all four editions: C, Bb, Eb, and bass clef.

So, trombonists, bass players, tuba players, and–well, have I missed anyone?–whoever else lives and moves in the bass clef universe, here is the practice resource for Coltrane changes that you’ve been hoping for, pining for, craving with all the intensity of your bass clef hearts. All kidding aside, if you’re at a stage of development on your instrument where you want to tackle the challenge of “Giant Steps,” this book is for you. It’s made for the woodshed and will help you build formidable chops for John Coltrane’s rite-of-passage tune.

Instant PDF download, $9.50
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Print editions–retail quality with full-color cover, $10.95 plus shipping: order here.

Voice Leading for the Giant Steps Cycle

Both in print and on the Internet, there’s no paucity of theoretical material available when it comes to “Giant Steps” and Coltrane changes. Of course, theoretical knowledge can’t take the place of time in the woodshed hashing out the changes on your instrument. But it can help you make some sense of what you’re practicing by revealing the order in what can at first seem like an odd, rambling array of chords. Once you understand some of the voice leading in “Giant Steps,” you’ll be able to pinpoint certain guide tones and use them effectively in your solos.

This post is by no means intended to offer an in-depth explication of “Giant Steps” theory. All I’m going to do is call your attention to how a few select tones proceed, so you can be mindful of them for the reason I’ve just stated. Let’s begin by naming the changes to the first four bars of section A in “Giant Steps.” In concert pitch, they are: Bmaj7 D7 / Gmaj7 Bb7 / Ebmaj7 / A-7 D7.

The second four bars repeats that chord progression a major third lower, thus: GMaj7 Bb7 / Ebmaj7 F#7 / Bmaj7 / F-7 Bb7.

If you delete the last two bars in each four-bar phrase and crunch together the remaining chords, you get the following sequence: Bmaj7 D7 / Gmaj7 Bb7 / Ebmaj7 F#7. This is the essential Giant Steps cycle. As you can see, once you reach the end of the cycle it repeats itself as the F#7 resolves downward by a fifth to the Bmaj7.

So far, so good. Now let’s see what happens when we start moving some basic chord tones. We’ll start with the root of the Bmaj7 chord. If you move it down by a whole step, you wind up on the note A, which functions as the fifth of the next chord, the D7. Move A down another whole step and you land on the root of  Gmaj7. Continuing down by whole steps in this manner–in other words, moving down the B whole tone scale–will move you from root to fifth to root to fifth through the entire Giant Steps cycle.

You can also apply the same down-by-major-second movement starting on the fifth of the Bmaj7, which is F#. In this case, the fifth moves down a whole step to E, which functions as the ninth of the D7 chord. (You could also look at it as the fifth of an A minor chord that serves as the ii/V7 to the D7.) This note in turn moves downward to the fifth of the Gmaj7. Again you’re descending through a whole tone scale, this one beginning on the fifth of the Bmaj7.

So if you want a handy memory aid to help you organize your guide tones in the Giant Steps cycle, simply think of two whole tone scales (using half notes to match the harmonic rhythm), one descending from the root and the other from the fifth of the Bmaj7 chord.

When you spotlight the third of the major seventh chords, things get more interesting. The third of the Bmaj7 is D#. Moving down a half step lands you on the note D, which is the root of the D7. To get from there to the third of the next chord, Gmaj7, you have to jump down a minor third. When you extend this downward movement of half step/minor third throughout the entire cycle, you wind up with an augmented scale.

You also get an augmented scale when you use the same movement starting on the seventh of the Bmaj7 chord, thus: A#, A / F#, F / D, C#.

To recap:

* For voice leading from the root and fifth of the major chords in “Giant Steps,” consider using, respectively, the B and F# whole tone scales.

* For voice leading from the third and seventh, use the D# and A# descending augmented scales.

I hope these concepts will help you see the symmetry in Coltrane changes and make life easier for you as a result. If you want a resource you can take into the practice room with you to help you master “Giant Steps,” check out my book The Giant Steps Scratch Pad. It’s available in C, Bb, Eb, and bass clef editions. See below for ordering info.

Happy practicing! Oh, and be sure to visit my jazz page for plenty more tips, solo transcriptions, exercises, and articles of interest to jazz musicians.

The Giant Steps Scratch Pad

.
Instant PDF download, $9.50
C edition Add to Cart
Bb edition Add to Cart
Eb edition Add to Cart
Bass clef edition Add to Cart
View Cart

Print editions–retail quality with full-color cover, $12.95 plus shipping: order here.

Augmented Scale Pattern by Minor Thirds

The exercise on this page forms the basis of several patterns I’ve been using to develop facility with the augmented scale. Click on the image to enlarge it.

In each bar, the scale root moves up by a minor third. In other words, the pattern takes you through four different augmented scales that outline a diminished seventh chord with their roots, thus:  C, Eb, F#, and A. Of course, you should transpose this exercise so that you also begin the pattern on C#, D, and Eb. After that, you wind up repeating material you’ve already practiced.  That’s one of the nice things about this exercise–there are only four patterns to learn!

So how do you use this pattern? You can find your own answers to that question, but here are a few thoughts:

* The best use is probably static chords, either minor or altered dominant.

* The pattern also implies a cycle of fifths with a chord change at every measure. I won’t delve into why this is so, but if you do your own analysis, you’ll see for yourself why this pattern accommodates both the cycle of fifths and tritone substitutions moving down by half-step.

The unique sound of the augmented scale offers plenty of color, and the fact that it fits no commonly used chord perfectly makes it an interesting choice for many chords as a temporary device. This pattern will help get your fingers used to moving the augmented scale through changing tone centers. Work hard, experiment, and have fun!

Be sure to check out my jazz page, featuring lots of other exercises, practice tips, insights, and solo transcriptions.

Shake It Up, Baby!

“…Uh, huh! Twist and shooouuuut! C’mon, c’mon, c’mon baaybee! Let it all”…er, hi there! Didn’t know anyone was listening to me sing.

Heh, well, then…as long as you’re here, let’s go back to that first line of the tune:

“Shake it up baaybeee!”

Are you shakin’ it up?

I don’t mean on the dance floor, I mean in your sax practice. If your sessions in the woodshed are starting to seem a bit stale, maybe it’s time you shook up your routine with the injection of some new material. Really, you should always be working on something new, not just perfecting what you already know.

It may be the introduction of a new pattern or lick. It could be a new tune, or a memorized solo that you’re taking to a different key. Whatever it is you choose, tackling new material will sharpen your mental edge and pay dividends in your technique.

So don’t be afraid to shake it up. Yes, you want to polish up the stuff you’re presently working on, and of course you want to revisit older material to maintain it. But it’s important to challenge yourself with an influx of fresh ideas. How often? That’s up to you. There’s a point at which new material is no longer new. You may not have honed it to perfection, but you’ve basically got it down. It’s time to cast your eyes on something else and move what you’ve been working on to the latter part of your practice session. Sure, you can warm up with familiar material, but then move on to newer stuff. Doing so will not only broaden your horizons, but also feed into the things you’ve been working on. And it will ensure that a year from now, you’ve got a year’s worth of woodshedding under your belt, not just a week’s worth times fifty-two.