I have no doubts that without music in my life, I would have not understood what art and creativity were about. Although there was some opera heard in my childhood (courtesy of my father, while I loved Elvis Presley), music was considered a hobby and something you did for fun in school and at home. You took piano lessons as I did at nine years old performing little recitals, etc., and that was it. By luck at fifteen as a fledgling saxophonist I went to the legendary jazz club Birdland in Manhattan and heard the great John Coltrane performing a few feet away. When I saw “Trane” as he is referred to, my first reaction was: ”That can’t be the same instrument I have at home!!” I refer to that night as “seeing the light”.….experiencing my personal epiphany.

The effect of that life-changing event along with subsequent visits to jazz clubs created in me a burning desire to get good, REAL GOOD on the horn. The rest as it is said “is history.” I got the chance to play with jazz legends, most notably with Miles Davis for a period in the 1970s. Needless to say that launched my career as a professional jazz musician. (My biography is well documented in “What It Is-The Life Of A Jazz Artist”-Scarecrow Press).

I have often thought about what it is that makes music so special, even compared to the other arts. For me it has to do with the abstract nature and transparency of sound. One doesn’t touch music and you can’t see it visually beyond written sheets. Music goes into the air, into the universe. Who knows how far music travels through the cosmos, comparable to light’s journey? In the physical world a person’s reaction to sound is completely unique to that individual, meaning a personal relationship is forged between the purveyor of sound (musician) and the receiver (listener).

It is becoming quite clear through present day research * that music affects different parts of the brain resulting in a feeling of euphoria, well-being and positive sensations. The effect that music has on human perception is clearly observable in the case of film scores. Watching the same scene with and without suitable music drastically influences the story line and subsequently the emotions of the viewer.

Music is non-denominational, though culturally it can be very specific reflecting the language, customs and even mores of a society. The universality of music serves as a great equalizer between people towards minimizing differences and emphasizing commonalities since everyone (even animals the research says) reacts to music. When I teach in foreign countries, as soon as I say Duke Ellington or Louis Armstrong, the audience nods in recognition no matter the language. Obviously some music may emphasize the dancing/celebratory aspect, while on the opposite side there is sacred music around the world. A human being doesn’t require specific learning skills to be moved by music, although of course with deeper listening to good music, the more enjoyment and sophisticated one’s response will be.

Music education opens a pathway towards feeling and emotion. If only for that reason it should be part of a young person’s development as a way to open the heart. The great triumvirate of all human endeavors referred to as mind, body and spirit are always striving towards balance. Music stimulates the mind, moves the body and most of all opens the spirit. It is the language of the cosmos and humanity.

* “Music and the Brain” from the Great Courses company provides a wealth of information on the research being done.

WHY A STEADY BAND – Lieb explains the importance of keeping the same band members

I wrote the following after a good run of work with my regular working quartet during the fall of 2010. Many thoughts that I have discusses in writings through the years about being a bandleader and what that entails are summarized here.

This fall has seen my regular working quartet hitting pretty hard in the U.S., something which is a rarity these days. You can see from the itinerary in the last newsletter that we made some stops on the West Coast and in the New England area. Also, the DL Big Band had a few hits and my band is the rhythm section for that group also. As a capper, we have a Europe tour coming up in December. So, this is quite a nice run which with constant playing inevitably opens musical doors both as a group and individually. In essence the machine has a chance to get oiled and run full throttle. This flurry of activity has lead me to re-think why it has always been a top priority to maintain the same personnel throughout my career. In this case it has been nearly twenty years with bassist Tony Marino and guitarist Vic Juris and ten with drummer Marko Marcinko.

In fact, I have had only three other steady groups in a 36 year period which in the jazz business is rather unusual.

I formed the Dave Liebman Group after Quest (Richie Beirach, Ron McClure, Billy Hart) which took up most of the 1980s. The original formulation was alongside Tony and Vic, Jamey Haddad on drums/percussion and Phil Markowitz on piano/ keyboards. My initial concept was to play more programmatic, written music than previously with Quest. I also wanted to delve more into odd meters and rhythm in general, in light of the emphasis during the Quest period where the material focused so much on the harmonic language that Richie and I developed over the decades. In 1997, the piano departed and a few years later Haddad left for Paul Simon’s gig, so Marko came aboard. With the absence of the keyboard, Vic Juris had to seriously step up to the plate, which he has more than accomplished. In fact I have never heard a musician grow more than Vic did in these decades. He is serious, hard working and full of talent. And as a human being, Vic is the nicest person to be around as well. 

With the departure of Markowitz I directed the music towards a freer harmonic and more open rhythmic concept.

Repertoire-wise this meant a lot of time/no changes formats, rubato and occasional odd meter. But the primary emphasis was definitely towards the conversation taking place between the guitar and myself, rather than purely soloistic. Now in 2010, we have been moving into a more color oriented stage, meaning increased use of sound and ambiance. Tony is now playing exclusively electric bass; I am only playing soprano (harkening back to the long hiatus I took from the tenor between 1980 and 1995) and Vic is all over the place sonically speaking. The three of us are using a variety of pedals and effects with Marko employing hand percussion instruments along with the drums.

One could say that an emphasis on atmosphere is where we are at present.

Considering the material itself over the years, I think it is quite clear to anyone who has followed my development (and I would venture to say the following is more or less true of most artists), that what you play near the beginning of your career forms the foundation for everything after that. Of course it is juggled around and transformed, but the basic sound that one hears at the commencement of creative work seems to more or less form the basis of an artist’s entire oeuvre. Although from my generation onwards (growing up musically in the ‘60s and career-wise in the ‘70s), the jazz repertoire became much more eclectic than previously using a wider variety of idioms and styles rather than the customary blues, rhythm and standard tunes, the fact remains that you are what you are musically.

One could say that even in the case of Miles Davis who on the surface traversed many styles over forty years, common stylistic aspects remained throughout his life. There is a certain “essence” that usually appears in its raw form at the beginning, probably without much cognizance or sophistication, but very real nonetheless. The challenge for a long artistic life is how to refine that essence and transform it over the years so it remains fresh and vital. In more than a few ways the music I have played with the present Dave Liebman Group over the past twenty years is quite similar to the material on my first recording as a leader on ECM titled “Lookout Farm” (1973).

 DL Group at Fisherman’s Wharf, San Francisco

Back to the subject, the most obvious reason for maintaining the same personnel is that time spent together both on and off the bandstand builds trust and confidence. Musically this means that whatever one plays, you know it is real and not a false or selfish gesture.

You accept what your mates play as the best they can do at the time and move on from there. In other less permanent situations, a moment of doubt may surface as to why someone played something. Did it happen because of musical reasons or personal ego or other extraneous factors? Granted that great musicians can come together on a one night or short term basis and create some interesting music. But when a band has a history it’s apparent, certainly to the listener without them necessarily being consciously aware of it. They feel something beyond the ordinary happening. There is one more important reason for keeping steady personnel. In retrospect it was through observing Miles Davis as a leader that I learned the following.

The main task when leading a band is to recognize in your sidemen what they do best. One must of course first realize what you personally do best musically. I would imagine by the time one is a bandleader they would know that about themselves.

You can’t expect others to latch on to something if you don’t have it well formed at least in your own head, if not on paper. This “knowing oneself” is a purely objective exercise …there is no “would’ve,” “could’ve” or “should’ve” …no conditional tense please!! Just objective observation. Then, because jazz is the most democratic of all music, you have to find partners who can and want to enhance what you hear. 

With Miles, it seemed that he could hear what he wanted out of you even if the so-called “audition” was musically totally unrelated to what his music was at the time. He heard Dave Holland with a singer playing standards; he heard Al Foster playing bebop with Walter Bishop at a club called the Cellar on 96th Street in New York; he heard me playing with Steve Grossman in a double quartet free jazz gig at the Scene on 46th Street in Manhattan.

What all of us ended up playing with Miles had nothing to do with any of these musical settings. If you think about a lot of Miles’ sidemen, the way they played during their tenure with Miles was never heard again in their future music. 

Once you find these right partners, the leader has to create the circumstances for this combination to blossom and realize the sound in his head. This means several things: keeping the music challenging and exciting in order to pique the interest of your sidemen; finding opportunities to play in order to satisfy the necessity of making a living; and creating a workable social environment since there is hopefully a lot of time spent together touring and recording…if the group is successful which is the obvious objective. When everything is synching up, the music has a chance to go beyond the mundane. This takes a lot of work, good timing and a bit of luck…all factors that go into any successful business undertaking.

Like any long term relationship (marriage being a good metaphor), there are emotional and relational ups and downs which naturally occur. There is also the “boredom” factor, meaning knowing too well how someone reacts to a given musical situation, which can potentially take away from what true improvisers look for on a daily basis, playing something new and fresh, not by rote. True jazz musicians are very sensitive to mechanical playing. We are supposed to be in the moment without a past or future, in the now. Too much predictability can bring the level of the musical discourse down. We try to achieve a balance between the expected and the surprise gesture.

Accepting the inevitability of at least some repetitious playing when you are with the same musicians for awhile is important. Ultimately with the right people, the group moves beyond, concentrating rather on the positive which is something played that is fresh music. With patience, time will take care of these matters. When that happens there is a feeling of accomplishment, of having passed through something together which strengthens the band and the music. It goes without saying that finding the right people to fit into this scenario is no mean feat!!

For me, it was the power of their steady groups that artists like Coltrane, Miles, Monk, Blakey and others from that era had going which most affected me most as a listener. I urge musicians to do their best to sustain long term relationships. The rewards are worth it. To my guys, I say thanks for the loyalty and trust you have given me.

Why Compose?

by David Liebman

I have always maintained in both teaching and as a central premise of my aesthetic that for the serious improviser, composing is a vital tool towards finding one’s own individual voice. Because the compositional process is more often that not slow and methodical (with exceptions of hurried deadlines), in most cases both technical and aesthetic decisions can be made after deliberate consideration. In mulling over whether or not to use a specific pitch, chord, rhythm, or whatever musical element in question, the musical mind is considerably slowed down, especially when compared to what jazz musicians normally have to consider while improvising. In composition there are no excuses for not getting the music the way you intend it to be, such as the accompanist’s abilities, bad equipment, be it a reed, sound system or out of tune piano, etc., factors which may negatively affect live performance. Composing is the equivalent of being in the laboratory, going through a step by step process. The relatively glacial pace of writing helps a musician to fine tune the mind, so that musical decisions normally made in the heat of the moment during improvisation have a chance to become more refined both consciously and unconsciously over time. Of course the usual elements of intuition, experience, habit and may I dare say a bit of good luck, will always be part and parcel of the improviser’s game, but every little bit helps towards improving one’s prowess. In a certain sense an improviser is always looking for the perfect solo that from a purely musical standpoint would stand up under compositional review, meaning the kind of rigorous editing that is part and parcel of a composer’s trade.

From a more practical standpoint and especially in the case of a musician who leads a band performing one’s own compositions, there is the added value of being able to construct a musical landscape that is personal and challenging. A composition sets up a “problem” to be solved by specifying a musical element(s) to improvise on, be it a scale, melody, harmonic progression, rhythm, texture, etc. Therefore the improviser is in essence composing along the lines that the composition itself highlighted. This process improves both one’s own craft and the entire group’s efforts as a result of focusing on specific musical devices. Also from the practical side, there is the obvious and fortuitous possibility that other musicians will play one’s compositions. This is the ultimate compliment as well as a potential added source of income.

The Compositional Challenge

A major challenge in composing is to find the correct balance between writing too much and too little as far as the improvising is concerned. My goal is to offer the improviser enough freedom to bring out his or her player’s strengths, but at the same time to offer a challenge and enough direction so that the solo inevitably has an inner logic and relationship to the composition itself. If there is too much written material, the soloist may be inhibited or forced into musical corners, resulting in a lessening of spontaneity and feeling. Too little direction in the composition can lead to a lack of cohesiveness. How a song can convey emotion as well as present a concentrated musical problem for the improviser to solve is a core challenge.

A composer works with a mixture of the five elements of music: melody, harmony, rhythm, color (texture/sound) and form. A pervasive guideline, common to all art is the interplay, balance and denouement of tension and release. This is where the artistic aspect of composition is clearly demonstrated, assuming that technicalities of the craft have been learned and absorbed. The inspirational aspects of composing are obviously an important factor but should not be overrated. To paraphrase Bela Bartok, composition is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration!! Composing is a learned task like playing an instrument or memorizing a piece of music. Doing it more often than not  makes one better at it.

I once asked the great Stevie Wonder how he wrote so many masterpieces (especially in the 1970s) and his reply was to the extent: “I write five tunes a day!!”

My Body of Work

Listeners and fans familiar with my work over these decades know that I am an unabashed eclectic, having recorded, composed and performed in a wide variety of idioms and styles. To my mind, no matter what the music, one’s essential personality will come forth if it is based on a strong conviction to be true to oneself along with a basic understanding of the idiom involved. Hence, this song book offers a repertoire that is far ranging in style. In a certain way, my first recording as a leader, Lookout Farm, on the ECM label in 1973 set the course of my musical tastes with the four compositions representing these interests over the ensuing decades: twentieth century classical harmony, rock and ethnic rhythms, free and modal jazz with more than a nod to the tradition at times. (I have recorded the music of Miles, Coltrane, Alec Wilder, Cole Porter, Monk, Jobim and even Puccini as of this writing.) Add various shadings of these main directions and you have my basic repertoire for the past forty years which would include straight ahead jazz tunes (ballads, blues, waltzes, swing and contrafacts), odd meter rhythms, ostinato/pedal point settings, chromatic and triadic harmonic progressions, free jazz (linear counterpoint/time, no changes) and of course combinations of these elements. Often, I write for an instrumental format that will be conducive to a particular idiom. For example, a bass-sax-drums trio is quite suitable for a linear counterpoint song; a group with a synthesizer for textural or rock type tunes, etc.

In jazz, hearing a composition come alive on recording or performance is an important aspect of the process. Whenever possible I urge the reader to seek out recorded versions of the tunes. But I must add a caveat which is that composing for me in an ongoing process, meaning a tune is never truly completed. Surely when it is recorded, that does represent some sort of “final” statement of the tune, but even now as I prepare the pieces for this collection, I am constantly changing them. One’s tastes, aesthetic choices and of course knowledge of the tools of music is continually in flux and inevitably evolving as time goes on. With all that said, be aware that what is written here may be different from the recorded version.

In my work a lot of compositions have as their inspiration an image, place, person, mood or something similarly concrete as I am definitely an image oriented composer. There are of course pieces which are purely musical studies, but many have some programmatic intent, at least on the inspirational level which leads me to a sound, be it harmonic, rhythmic or harmonic.  My mind imagines a picture or realizes a feeling, followed by an initial musical reaction. I trust my instinct that what first goes down on the paper is basically acceptable and ready to be worked on. I usually return to a song over days or weeks, sometimes for only a brief period of time to hear how it sounds anew and if needed continually refining it. A piece may begin with a basic concept of what instrumental context the song will be best suited for, but always allowing for the piece to have a new life with another combination in the future. Although I use the piano for the majority of compositions, depending upon the idiom, I might write from the horn (melody) or bass line first or even the drums. However, one way or the other it usually find its way to the piano for final review.

Crucial to the success of a composition are two other skills. Arranging a piece means realizing various aspects of the architecture (form) of a composition by juggling the order of events meaning insertion and placement of intros and outros, codas and tags, vamps, solo order and solo forms, etc. Finally orchestration, meaning texture and sound choices, even in the small jazz group implies which instrument(s) will play what passage at what point. These two elements can drastically alter the overall effect of a song, especially in the performance realm. In my period playing with Miles Davis as well as studies of his entire oeuvre, it was apparent that he was a great spontaneous arranger and orchestrator. He knew when to leave something out of the music or to use a particular instrument for a specific sound.

For the sake of completeness, I have written descriptions of any direct inspirations that were associated with the compositions. Every tune gets a file folder (the real kind) in which I put the date it was written, the initial inspiration, multiple versions of the tunes and any technical or musical points of interest.

There is a reason why so many musicians both enjoy and despair when it comes to composing. It is equally rewarding and frustrating, but necessary for artistic growth. A composition is like growing a plant or more dramatically similar to raising a child. In my musical life, composing has been an indispensable tool for self discovery.

 

July 2006

Stroudsburg, PA USA

by DAVID LIEBMAN

You’ve heard the expression that there is an “art of listening”. Though on the surface it would seem that to enjoy music should be an effortless experience, when you listen to my music it is admittedly not that easy to appreciate without some prior experience. For sure, the energy will be obvious and to some listeners possibly seem a bit aggressive, but that is an undeniable part of my playing no matter what style or situation. I will try here to make sense of my music so that you can enjoy it to the fullest.

What you are hearing in any small group jazz setting is in essence a conversation between several individuals who hopefully have a history of communication and a shared language. The subject matter changes with each composition and each performance begins the process anew. Every piece inherently contains a musical puzzle to be worked out by the players spontaneously. What we, the musicians do with a piece of music is to apply our knowledge and technique tempered by one’s emotional state to explore the given musical challenge. These come in the form of rhythmic, harmonic, sonic, melodic and structural questions. Of course, we have preconceived and habituated answers based on previous experience and practice, but the overriding goal is to be as spontaneous as possible without relying on the past or thinking about the future. In other words, always “being there” in present time!!

In the final analysis it is the process which you, the listener, observes and to my mind is the crux of the whole matter. Just as in everyday life, when a group of individuals meet to solve common problems, each with his or her own expertise, it is the joy of mutual discovery that can be so uplifting and inspiring to witness or be involved in. What constitutes a “great” performance from a merely good one is when the group reaches beyond collective agreement into magic and even a spirituality which is communicated to the listener. Just as in real life, these moments can be rare, which is what keeps musicians going from performance to performance over years and years.

My Musical Creed

To go a bit more in depth, I will describe the main tenets of my musical philosophy. In the overall picture, I think of the making of music(and any art in general) as an attempt to balance three things, which can conveniently be remembered by the fact that they all begin with the letter H: hand, head and heart. The hand represents the technical mastery of an art form and all that suggests-primarily instrumental and musical expertise. The head refers to the task of knowing about the music-how it is constructed. The heart, which puts it all together is of course the emotional, psychological and spiritual facets of the artist-in other words the core personality of the individual. For me, music must include these three aspects in some relationship to be fully satisfying.

Music must also include in some proportion, the five elements which make up the overall structure. There are the traditional melody, harmony and rhythm, but also form and color. By form I mean the overall architecture of the music. For example, it may be compositional such as a twelve bar blues, AABA song structure, or the form of one’s solo from high to low points of tension and release. Even the sequence of songs in a live performance or on a CD are matters of form. Similar to a frame for a painting or punctuation in prose writing, form constitutes the overall shape and structure of a work. Color implies the sound of the music meaning how the specific instruments are used individually as well as collectively in the ensemble to create a texture. One might consider color as the general ambiance (as in the French meaning atmosphere) of music. In the last few decades with the use of electronics, color has played a major role in what you hear. What these five elements mean to me as an artist, outside of the technical aspects, can be compared to how a painter uses his color palette or a poet uses language. My interest is in exploring these elements, sometimes together, other times separately, in order to discover more subtle ways to use them to make a personal and coherent musical statement. Note the use of the word “personal” which is of paramount importance to me. That means to be oneself in any given setting.

The final concept of relevance is that I am an unabashed eclectic, meaning interested in many different musical idioms. I trace this back to my formative years, the 1960s, when I was exposed to all styles of music which were more readily available then in previous times to any interested listener. It was not uncommon for me to listen to Coltrane, Hendrix, Bartok and Shankar over the course of one day. I was attracted to many diverse areas of music and when I began to construct my own musical landscape in the 1970s(after my apprenticeship period with Elvin Jones and Miles Davis), I wanted to express myself in all these styles and their many combinations. You could call this “fusion” in the true sense of the word.

The Music Itself

With this introduction to my aesthetic, let me guide you through the Liebman repertoire over the years. Though the specific material itself may vary from performance to performance or on recordings, these categories are what I have spent my time on. But please remember-the overriding goals are spontaneity balanced with order, entertainment with elucidation, control with emotion.

1 – Repertoire: The Legacy

Jazz musicians like the classical players have a standard repertoire. These are the works through which one learns the language as performed and written by the masters of the art. By extension, repertoire means finding contemporary material written by others (possibly not in the jazz field) and conceiving an adaptation that will both be true to the song as well as one’s own musical vision. In other words, “playing the standards” for me means individualizing known material in a way suitable to my personal style and taste. The material can come from any source, for example Miles Davis’ “All Blues”, Coltrane’s “India”, the Disney theme “Beauty and the Beast” or as I did in the 70s on a recording(Sweet Hands-A&M/Horizon) the Beatles’ “Within You, Without You”. Musically, I may change the harmony through new or expanded chords, the rhythm by tempo change or using a different meter than the original(5/4 rather than 4/4); inserting a “vamp”(repetitive pattern) built upon some part of the tune or newly invented; even reworking the melody to fit a new harmony; or combinations of these ideas. In essence, the primary musical challenge in playing repertoire is more of arranging, rather than pure original composing. As is apparent in the next genre, the original tune. Another point to note is that it takes a certain level of maturity and experience to take classics that are undeniably linked to a great artist or genre and attempt to personalize them. In any case, the result of playing repertoire is that hopefully, the listener will enjoy the transformation of something relatively known into a personal vehicle for exploration. In other words the familiar is reborn!

2 – The Original Jazz Composition

Here is where the composer and improviser meet head on. I write songs for myself to play on, so each tune has within it some musical challenge which attracts me personally. As mentioned earlier, this problem solving process is essential and it is the original composition which best exemplifies a particular musician’s interests. This music may reflect the ongoing challenge of improvising coherent melodies across moving (and for me) usually complex harmonies. Or to play in a stationary key in a way that suggests other harmonic movement. (This modal and pedal point style is described in detail in my book “A Chromatic Approach to Jazz Melody and Harmony”/Advance Music). It is the eternal cross all jazz musicians bear (whether admitted or not) which is “how did Bird, Trane, Miles, etc. do it?” Essentially, this “playing the changes” is what keeps many jazz musicians eternally humble!!

With my present group (since 1991), there has been the further exploration of playing in odd time signatures, meaning not in the standard 4/4 or 3/4 pulse. Of course there is for me the autobiographical element of my originals which are often inspired by people, places, events, emotions, etc. This adds a personal element which hopefully gives the listener more insight into the soul of the artist. Almost every tune of mine has a story.

3 – Free Jazz

The word “free” can imply (and may sound like) chaos-a kind of anything goes attitude. But returning to my description of the five musical elements, it is this part of the music where color and form are most explored. You might hear sounds emanating from the instruments that are out of normal and customary usage, implying an attempt to create a spontaneous and interesting sonic environment. One of the most common textures used is when we launch into a true group dialogue to which all the players are contributing equally, rather than there being one primary soloist. Out of this texture a true acappella (unaccompanied) solo may emerge, or a duet and so on. These freer compositions usually do not have predetermined harmonies, set tempos or bar lengths, so the level of spontaneous interaction and need for the musicians to react to each other seems to intensify in this idiom. In general, musicians feel more “free from” rather than “free of” more conventional structures when playing in this style.

4 – Ethnic-World Music

As part of my eclectic tastes I have always loved world music. In particular the various ways flutes and hand drums are used have fascinated me. In relation to the elements of music, this genre usually includes little or no direct harmony, rather just remaining in one key for each piece(s). This leads to increased emphasis on both rhythm and melody. For me as a wind player, the interest lies in the various ways different cultures use similar expressive devices such as trills, vibrato, vocalization techniques(singing while blowing into a wind instrument), alternate fingerings, portamento(sliding from one note to the next), etc. Because of the stationary key, the adage “less is more” is quite applicable implying that the necessity of melodic variation is at a premium in world music. Finally, there is the very sophisticated rhythmic approach of some world music such as that of India and the Balkan region. As far as communication with the audience, this style is extremely accessible (if not overdone) to even the uninitiated listener. My collection of world flutes come from countries like Armenia, India, Bolivia, Norway, China, Japan, Turkey, Columbia and others. In my present group, drummer Jamey Haddad is an expert hand drummer alongside his jazz playing. He uses various kinds of frame drums, which are basically large tambourines, as well as his own invention, the Hadgini drum that sounds like an electrified tabla. In fact, in my first group “Lookout Farm”(1973-76) tabla player Badal Roy was an essential part of our sound. You can hear the sense of joy, looseness and abandonment when we play in this style.

5 – The Pop Influence

Before I heard any jazz as a young boy in Brooklyn, New York, it was the rock ‘n’ roll of the 1950s which I listened to, especially Elvis Presley. As I was introduced to soul and funk later on, the music of Earth, Wind and Fire, Jimi Hendrix, Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, James Brown and especially Sly Stone interested me, mostly from the rhythmic and feeling points of view. And of course there was the Beatles, Cream and songwriters like Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan and Simon and Garfunkle who were part of my teenage and early adult life socially. Throughout the years I have recorded several times using a pronounced influence from this music and though I have not followed up on current styles too much, you are bound to hear this influence somewhere in the rhythm of what I write.

6 – Contemporary Classical

For over twenty years I had a long relationship with pianist Richard Beirach who is an expert on the classical music of the 20^th century, which includes composers like Bartok, Stravinsky, Ives, Schoenberg and many others. We did a lot of work incorporating the harmonic innovations of this period and improvising over it. In the 90s, although this influence is not as pronounced, I still use the harmonic knowledge gained from this period for my own personal soloing as well as compositionally. In fact, I would venture to say that harmony is my strongest area because of the prodigious work I did for so long studying it.

Final Thoughts

I hope this little primer on what to listen for will increase your appreciation of my music. Like anything in life, when you adopt a position it has both positive and negative aspects. Being an eclecticist means that the listener may find it difficult to focus on one prominent feature of an artist’s style, thereby leading to confusion in identifying what someone’s core values are. On the other hand, when you hear someone like me over years there can be a lot of interest because of the variety. In some ways, I think of my music as a picture show, a kind of moving travelogue of impressions. In any case, all of these words mean little if the feeling of the music which someone plays doesn’t go right to your heart, beyond any description. I hope that in listening to me, both the heart and the head are stimulated.

Following is a selected discography as a leader which exemplify these categories:

1 – Repertoire – Double Edge-‘85/Homage to Coltrane-‘87/West Side Story-Today-‘90/Classic Ballads-‘91/Setting the Standard-‘92/Besame Mucho-‘93/Miles Away-‘94/Return of the Tenor-‘96’/Meditations-’97/Monk’s Mood-’99/A Walk in the Clouds (Liebman Plays Puccini)-’01/The Unknown Jobim-’01

2 – Original Jazz Compositions – Pendulum-‘78/Doin’It Again-‘79/If They Only Knew-‘80/Timeline-‘89/Quest,Quest II,Midpoint,Of One Mind/80s(all with group Quest)

3 – Free Jazz – Open Sky-‘72/Spirit in the Sky-‘73/Spirit Renewed-‘82/Trio + One-‘88/The Seasons-’92

4 – Ethnic/World – Sweet Hands-‘75/The Blessing of the Old Long Sound-’89

6 – Pop – Lighten Up-‘76/What It Is-‘79/Energy of the Chance-’87

7 – Classical – Dedications-‘79/Chant-‘80/Classique-‘91/Graphic Reality-’94

8 – The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner – Time Immemorial – The Tree – One of a Kind

The following recordings contain parts of many of these categories mixed together:

Lookout Farm – ‘73/Drum Ode-‘74/Picture Show-‘85/Voyage-‘95/New Vista-‘97/Water-Giver of Life-‘98

by DAVID LIEBMAN

Following is a transcription of a talk that I gave to a class of students at East Stroudsburg University(Pennsylvania) for the conclusion of a course titled “Masters of Jazz”. For twelve sessions guest musicians spoke about their lives to the students. The textbook for the course was my “Self Portrait of A Jazz Artist” (Advance Music) The topic for the talk was to describe understand the common qualities that these artists possess which define success in jazz and in life.

I wrote down a few of what I would describe as common qualities that you saw in these speakers, in various intensities, that you will find in the real world no matter what you do, no matter what field you encounter. I think there are some general lessons here that you can observe and then there are some very unique things that we only see so with such intensity in the jazz field.

One of the things I really admire about the musicians, maybe the main thing is that the musicians and people involved in jazz are in it for the music and possess a certain kind of — I’m going to say it slang-wise — a certain kind of down-home, informal quality…straight-forward vibe basically, just plain folks. These are the kind of people you can talk to anywhere. This is not to disparage any other field or any other kind of music, but the idea of the prima donna, the idea of the “great artist” sitting in an ivory tower aloof and away from the real world for the most part really doesn’t exist among jazz musicians. It’s just not in their “M.O.” I think that is something we really value. I’m not saying that they’re not sometimes quite introspective and like their privacy and so forth, but they’re the kind of people who don’t holds airs or come on strong with an attitude. To me, that’s a very endearing quality in common with all the jazz musicians I’ve met. And by the way, this is true all over the world regardless of language. That’s a nice thing to see and something that I feel anyone would prefer to encounter in the real world but of course that isn’t always going to be the case. This is definitely something in common with the artists you have seen here.

Another thing that you might have noticed, again depending on what each of the people spoke specifically about, meaning what the emphasis of their discussion with you was, is how the word “integrity” enters into the life of these artists. Integrity is a word that gets bandied around a lot and means different things to different people of course. But I think for the most part what you saw are people who are so true and connected to what they do that it would be very difficult to imagine them moving from that place. Their ways of achieving what they want are going to be, for the most part, honest, moral and ethical. And that is I would say, a very common trait among jazz musicians. They are very straight, honest people in that respect with no game-playing. These are not the kind of people that are going to take the money and run. For the most part there is a real honesty about intentions and personal dealings.

What is it that makes these common traits among people who come from all different experiences? I always go back to the fact that the music is the source of the truths and our principles. In other words, what we heard, and you heard everybody talk about their influences — who inspired them, how they started, what gave them the idea to even play — what you find in the music is usually something much higher and much more spiritual, much more balanced than your life or the life you see around you. The music is perfect, after that it’s what we bring to the music. When you listen to those who inspired you, you are turned on by the beauty, the logic, all the great intellect and the great technique. That beauty that comes through the music I have always felt showed me a better way to be as a person. In other words, if I had a doubt about how to be, I would listen to Coltrane who would straighten me out, especially when I was in that period of my life searching for how to be which was my early 20s for the most part. In other words, when questions arose about which way I should go, the kind of things that one confronts  in life, when I would listen to Coltrane, it would make me say: “Well there’s no question about which way I have to follow.” So there’s something about the music that gives a sense of integrity and direction to those who love and devote themselves to it. This is a definite common trait.

More to the practical world. I read a book years ago called The Lives of the Great Composers. It was by a very famous critic from the New York Times, Harold Schoenberg, a classical music critic, very respected and so forth. It was biographies of all the guys from, you know, Mozart right on through the modern ones. I remember my impression of the book was how different everybody was in the way they organized music. Some were completely organized, I forget, it was one of the H’s – Handel or Haydn, one of those guys was so organized; he had everything together, everything was copied, parts were together, and he would hand it to the King or whomever and that would be it. One of the other dudes, Debussy or somebody, was up at 5 in the morning the night before it was due, copying the parts. I’m talking all geniuses, all great, all different paths to the same thing. A quality you see among all these musicians, a quality you can glean from all of these speakers is some sense of organization. Now, if you were to compare the organization of Speaker A with the organization of Speaker B and go to their studio, you’d see one guy’s studio where there are saxophones in the corner on the floor, reeds, music paper, pencils strewn all about, and go to some other studio and everything is in boxes and neatly stacked. This would reflect an obvious difference in the style. But I think, beyond the style, beyond the way one does it, for somebody to be able to play and be involved in this music, you have had to be organized somewhere, somehow. Because there’s no way that you could amass this kind of information, to be able to spit it out in a spontaneous way in such rapidity that we do in jazz without being organized in some fashion. I mean like a computer. The boxes in the brain are divided up into little segments which work. They’re different for everybody but they are very, very clear. There’s no way that they would get to this kind of level if they weren’t like that.

Another thing that’s in common, that goes along with the organization principle, is the ability to project, to think ahead, to imagine. It’s thinking about a situation, about what will it be like, what is happening tomorrow, what will the music sound like if I do this, where will the music be played, etc. In other words, what we spend a lot of our time doing is preparing for the next event, whether it’s a gig, or writing for a recording, or traveling, or organizing a tour. These are very practical things. Or maybe I am preparing to learn something so that possibly in a year or two I’m very good at it. In other words I’ll learn this piece and then I’ll get better through the discipline I’ve learned by studying. A musician has to be able to imagine what things are going to be like, to project and not be afraid of the future, or be scared about how it will sound…just go out on a limb. In a way, that’s very tied to the spontaneous nature of what we do, that we’re playing on the spot, in the moment and we’re not sure how it’s going to work out. But even more than that, even away from the instrument, it is the ability to really look ahead and say “What would happen if I did this? And if I do this, what would the results be?” That’s a certain kind of ability. I don’t know if that comes through the music or that comes because of the music, but I think that is in common to a lot of jazz musicians — the ability to project ahead into the future.

Obviously a big thing, and this you probably got very clearly from all the speakers as they spoke about their past and their lives and how they developed is the ability to learn from experience. How to take a kernel of information and let that be a lesson to do something better the next time. Now we do it every minute with the music. If we see a chord change, or we see a new pattern, or we see something musically that is thrown in front of us that is unusual, the way we handle that is a preparation for the next time that comes up. We may not realize it but of course we’re honing our abilities…we’re disciplining ourselves every time we see that particular problem. One might say: “Well you know what, I saw this chord progression which was very difficult in this tune that I did on a recording date. I got through it but it was a bitch to play. I’m taking it home, I’m going to practice it and write 20 extra exercises on it to make a study out of it.” Well, that’s quite organized and very, very disciplined. Another person might just be more spontaneous about it, in the sense of saying: “Well you know that thing I saw yesterday in the music was quite challenging and I will remember that and lodge it in that part of the brain that I can use for experience.” That’s very important…to learn from experience. We do it with the music, which is no different from anybody in any other part of life who learns from experience.

But that’s what’s unusual about us. What’s different from other people in this respect is that the music made us become this way. That’s how I feel about it. It wasn’t like we came on to the planet with these things. We came in as anybody else, equipped with whatever our past is and whatever our upbringing was. But when we got to the music, usually at a very impressionable age, it told us these things without even spelling it out. So they’re all things we got from music and then of course those that are smart enough or that are aware will take these things and develop them further.

Of course you know that one of the elements of jazz is what we call spontaneity, spontaneous improvisation. The whole idea of spontaneity and flexibility, the ability to change in mid course and alter plans, not be upset, to try something different on the spot, in the moment, is really something that’s a good attribute to have in life because we can’t tell what’s going to be coming down the road. In jazz, again, the music demands that we are like that on a musical level. You have to be like that, otherwise we couldn’t handle this music. We’d be better in classical music, which is knowing what’s coming up. The great classical musicians, of course, are spontaneous in their performance but for the most part they have a game plan that they have practiced and they have studied. We have a game plan in which the premise is spontaneity and to deal with what’s coming at you. That’s brings in one of the great things about playing jazz — the interaction with the other people. It’s the fact that I really don’t know what the drummer is going to do; I don’t know what the piano player is going to do. We have some kind of guide, we have some kind of plan but I’m not sure. Taking that into real life makes for a kind of attribute in one’s personality that I think is very handy to have which is the ability to change and not to be stuck in one way. We never know what’s going to happen, even though we think we know what’s going to happen. So again, I think the music makes that a common attribute among jazz musicians: flexibility, spontaneity, loving to take a chance. We dig that. In fact, without it, we probably wouldn’t be as happy as people. That’s part of our makeup.

Finally, on my little short list here, probably the most important thing which  summarizes everything is individuality. One of the understood goals that a musician looks for in the final result is that after learning what came before, what everybody else is doing, what everybody else has done—what one goes for is an individual voice. Now in ordinary life, everybody had an individual speaking voice. Your tone of voice is individual, the way you speak, the way you phrase things, there are no two people that are alike. In jazz, in this art form, individuality is the main goal. You strive for individuality through the music, not only though your personality, not through what you wear or through how you talk, but how you play that instrument. And I always say to the serious students, can you tell who it is from the first note? Those of you who know the music, can you tell that that’s so-and-so from the first or second note they play no matter what song they play, no matter what period of history they played in? It’s like can you tell Picasso from Monet? Well, I think you can, okay? Can you tell Fellini from Woody Allen? Everything and everybody has a signature in the art field. In our field, individuality is a big priority, at least to some. It’s not something that everybody reaches or cares about necessarily. Among musicians this is an endless discussion. If I sat down with Phil (Woods) and Bob (Dorough) (two of the speakers during the course) and we put on ten records now, we’d probably end up discussing: “Well, this cat, I don’t know. He sounds good, and sounds OK, you know, he sounds like a good musician, he’s done his homework. But I can’t really identify who it is, only who his influences are. It just sounds like a big melting pot.” And then somebody would put something on and all three of us, or all twelve of the speakers that you’ve seen would go: “That’s him. I know who that is. That’s that guy.”

That quest for individuality and the desire to bring it out was a really important lesson to me. It’s what I learned most from this music. I had no idea about that. Nobody ever told me that that’s the name of the game or that you have to form your personality, and have a way of being in whatever you do from ordinary life to the way you treat people to what your work is. You inevitably are going to have a style so best be it that you are aware of it, develop and hone it to where it is together so that at least you are close to the way you want it to be…as best as it can be because it’s never a finished product. The important thing is that you are developing it. And that point of individuality is something that we, in different degrees, sit down and think about. That’s a good thing to learn from this music because when you hear it, what you’re hearing is a group of people who pursue individuality at all costs. In some cases, they really paid a lot for it. That’s something which you really don’t see too much in this world: the pursuit, glorification, exaggeration of the individual instead of the group. And that’s one of the great lessons from this music.  On the other hand we play with others and are dependent upon cooperation and egolessness. It’s a great balance.

Now there are a couple of other things that are unique to the field which I’m not sure you’re going to find too much of in the rest of the world. We definitely live in a subculture. We are a dot of a dot of a dot on a page. Now I’m sure you’ve heard some of the people talk about that aspect of it. What does it feel like to be not in, forget the majority, not even in the minority, to be kind of in the corner in the sense of the entertainment world and show business. Now if you’re Black in this country you know that for sure, right? If you’re short and have three legs, you know about that. In other words, a lot of people know about being different in some way. Some more than others. But this music thing isn’t about what you came on the earth with, or what you were born with. This is what you chose to do. You chose to do something that is in the corner, that is definitely not in the mainstream, that is not commercial, that is not going to be popular. I don’t care what anybody says, it is not meant to be popular in my opinion. It’s like a little group of people who know about this stuff. You say Coltrane, boom, you say Miles, boom, you say Bird, boom, everybody knows. Everybody knows everything I just said and all of its implications and you may not even know the other person. And then, if you get more specific, you say record number 1328 from the year 1949 and it gets even more specific. So, this is something that we jazz musicians have definitely taken upon ourselves, to not be part of the mainstream. We really don’t care what anybody else thinks. Now that’s a tough one because all your whole life you’ve been told to join the club. Everything pushes you into the club. I’m talking about doing something with integrity, with moral principles and ethics, but you’re choosing to be in the corner. Now that’s something that you will not find very much of in the real world. And to me, that separates us in some ways.

When I was a teenager, I remember one thing I thought about way before the music ever entered as a viable entity. As much as I love my parents and this has nothing to do with them personally. They were teachers, nine-to-five and so on. I said to myself: “Man, there’s no way I’m going to do that. No way. I will rob a bank, anything, but I am not going to do that.” Now, I don’t know where that came from. I have no idea because I had no models and knew nobody that was like that. I came from a very straight-ahead family in a normal place and so on. But I knew I wasn’t going to do that straight thing. Luckily I found this music, otherwise you know, who knows where we’d all be. I always think about some of the guys I know. If they weren’t playing music they’d probably be among the cleverest criminal minds there could be, precisely because of all these great things that we’ve been talking about. Because if you turn these points into the dark side, then you’ve got some strong power.

So there’s something about jazz that is really unique. You go into rock and roll or pop music, well you’re not looking to be in the corner. Let’s face it. You’re looking to be on the cover of Time Magazine. You’re looking to be a hit. And if you go into classical music, just talking music, you’re joining a gigantic thing — not that it’s popular either — but you’re joining something that’s established and well funded. These things are understood. But when you get into something like jazz, or let’s say serious jazz, then you’re going into the circle. It’s esoteric and it’s a few people. And that you have to accept. That’s something that I think is unique to this field of music, though of course there are other fields of life which are similar. This being non-conventional increases the brotherhood that musicians feel.

I’m involved with teaching in schools from all over the world. It’s an organization that I am the founder of. It consists of mostly 20-25 year old students who are part of schools of jazz from, at this point, 40 countries on every continent. We’ve been doing this for 12 years already. And what’s always remarkable to me is the first day we get together – we are in a different country every year, this July it’s in Paris – there are these fifty to sixty young people from over twenty countries. Within a day or two it’s unbelievable how much more is in common than different. And it’s because of the music. Now of course half of them can’t even talk to each other, literally, because of the language as they come from different places and so forth. But it’s unbelievable how much is understood those first two or three days that we are together. And that brotherhood is what this music is about. If you put together all these 12 people that talked to you, this room would be buzzing for the next 10 days. It’s just a strong understanding – all different, all unique, all individuals, all have their own way of organizing things, all the stuff I just said. But there is so much more in common than there is different. And that’s because of the power of the music.

So this is the final thing. If there is ever anything in your life — music, religion, spirituality, something that takes you to a point that shows YOU things, that tells YOU truths — you have found Mecca. That will be a fountain that will never run out. Because you will run out, believe it. But when you got that in front of you, be it the sound, a vision, a story, whatever it is that you have in front of you, that will stay with you forever. That light will shine brighter and brighter because you get better and better at recognizing it. It’s like listening to it. You’re hearing jazz now as a result of this class. Those of you who continue to hear it five years from now are going to hear it completely different. It’s the same with this light I am referring to. You see this light, and you’ll say, “Yeah, that truth that I heard, that’s even brighter now than it was 10 years ago.” How is that going to happen? That’s the real lesson from what you’ve seen with these people because you’ve seen everybody in a very personal way here. This is unusual. You didn’t just see them on the bandstand playing. Here you had people standing in front of you for an hour, some showing more than others and you asked them questions or whatever. You never get that view of people. And that one thing that’s common to them is music. That’s an experience that all people should have, I hope, that somewhere in their life, something in their life makes them say, “Yeah, this is something else!!”

Now by the way, this doesn’t mean you have to become that. When so and so sat down at thirteen and took lessons or when I started with my first teacher, it wasn’t like we were thinking: “I think I’m going to play with Miles Davis.” I didn’t even know who Miles Davis was. I mean, in fact, even five or ten years after that, I still wasn’t thinking it. The innocence of this pursuit is what I love, because it means we are there because we love the music and not because we thought we were going to make a fortune, or be part of this subculture and be mysterious or look hip or look cool. It had to do with the power of the music. If that happens to you, I urge you to seize upon it. That will be a revelation that will guide the rest of your life. We musicians meet in our travels many listeners who are so dedicated to the music, who love the music so much. They don’t play or maybe they play a little bit – they just love it and it’s been a force for them the way it’s been for me. And they’re not musicians. Usually they do something else in life that is positive because they see that that’s the point. That’s something that no matter what you do, if you got that out of this seminar, then you’ve gained something irreplaceable and special.

by DAVID LIEBMAN

There is a distinction between art and craft. Craft implies mastering a specific technique to such a degree that one is competent enough to negotiate the general landscape of a given art form. For a jazz musician, this means sounding convincing using the rules, customs, signposts, etc., of the music. Art on the other hand transcends craft by communicating the artist’s personal and subjective feelings in the chosen manner.  Aristotle wrote: “The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance.”  Mastering craft is a necessary stage of the process ultimately leading to artistic expression representing an individual’s unique voice and personality–the ultimate goal of any artist’s quest.

Music is the medium through which I represent my deepest feelings and thoughts to the world at large. With music, the communication between the artist’s inner self and the listener is immediate and inherently devoid of any hidden agenda because of the abstract nature of sound itself-unseen, not tactile, etc. Have you ever heard someone play resentful or selfish music, or even on the other hand caring music? The fact that music is literally in the “ears of the beholder” opens it up directly to the heart and soul of the listener. This is especially true in the case of spontaneous improvised music, the core of jazz, which is so direct in its communicative approach, honestly delivered without pretense. The true message of jazz goes beyond intellect directly to the heart and soul itself.

On a more abstract level, a spontaneous improvised art such as jazz magnifies the moment. The act of improvising implies that the past and the future are irrelevant. There is no time for value judgments or censorship when one is improvising. If only because of the amount of information which has to be filtered through during the improvisational process, the jazz artist must be in the now, one hundred percent present, or the communicative value, let alone musical discussion at hand will be lost. At that point, the jazz player must rely on past habits or future intentions rather than immediate feeling. In fact, a constant dilemma for a jazz artist is just that: how to stay in present time, psychologically and musically. This “being there-ness” aspect inherent in improvisation places the artist in a position to interact in several important ways-in relation to the energy felt from the immediate environment and audience as well as the very real musical interaction taking place among the musicians themselves.

From a totally different standpoint, jazz for me represents the ultimate synthesis of independence and dependence, of the individual within the group. Except for the occasional solo performer, the majority of improvised jazz takes place in groups of several individuals which at its core symbolizes participatory democracy at work in real time. Though jazz places importance on finding and expressing one’s individuality, it also demands cooperation and teamwork for the greater musical good. There is a delicate balance between selflessness and ego, personified in trying to achieve a unified ensemble sound and equally, memorable individual solo statements that move the lister. Subtle social skills which are a prerequisite for any group interaction in everyday life are called upon in the typical jazz group, albeit using the language of music as the means.

Jazz perfomance requires fine tuning of the intellect intertwined with physical coordination on the highest level. The intellect has to have stored an incredible amount of technical and mathematical-like data in order to reproduce this information upon demand in the spontaneous jazz setting. Improvisation also demands immediate problem solving abilities to delineate the proper responses to both the musical challenges inherent in the music itself as well as the reactions necessary for handling the possibilities and consequences of group interaction. It goes without saying that manual dexterity, the range of which depends upon the specific instrument, is taken for granted. In common with some team sports, combining mind and body into a smooth and unified flow is an ongoing process and challenge for the improviser.

There is also the matter of simultaneously expressing thought and feeling. In a musical gesture, how much is a mental cognition versus raw feeling? Does the improvising artist know exactly what (s)he is doing every moment of the way? Does it really matter? In the final analysis of course it is the listener’s reaction that is paramount but these questions do permeate an improviser’s world.

The quest for an individual and recognizable sound or style emphasizes the concept of total freedom. What an audience is truly witnessing beyond hearing the music is the result of an individual’s ultimate expression of free will. The rendering of man’s primordial need and legitimate right for self expression is potent and symbolic to all those who hear the music. The inherent “cry” of human passion in jazz as in all great art cannot be denied.

On another level as compared to other forms of music, classical, world, pop, jazz is an inclusive music borrowing from all sources, both the musical and real world to inspire ideas. Jazz musicians are by and large among the most welcoming of artists to gaining inspiration from other sources.

        Jazz music conveys a positive energy that serves as a beacon of light for all to feel and recognize.

Before and After

Dave Liebman
Blindfold Test for JazzTimes by Bill Milkowski

A singular saxophonist and renowned educator, Dave Liebman has been pursuing an adventurous, uncompromisingly creative path since the late 1960s. Originally inspired by seeing John Coltrane perform live, the Brooklyn native later studied with Lennie Tristano and Charles Lloyd before forming the Free Life Communication cooperative during New York’s vital loft jazz scene of the late 1960s. Following a stint with jazz fusion pioneers Ten Wheel Drive in 1970, he served apprenticeships with Elvin Jones (1971-73) and Miles Davis (1973-74). Liebman led his own groups in the early ‘70s, including Open Sky Trio (featuring drummer Bob Moses) and Lookout Farm (featuring pianist Richie Beirach and tabla player Badal Roy). His Dave Liebman Quintet of the late ‘70s included guitarist John Scofield. Following a world tour with Chick Corea, he reunited with Beirach in 1981 to form the Quest quartet with bassist George Mraz and drummer Al Foster (and later bassist Ron McClure and drummer Billy Hart). Liebman disbanded Quest in 1991 and formed the first incarnation of the Dave Liebman Group with pianist Phil Markowitz, which lasted through 1997. Guitarist Vic Juris then replaced Markowitz to assume the role of chordal accompanist and second soloist in the band. Their latest recording (with drummer Jamey Haddad and bassist Tony Marino) is In A Mellow Tone , released in April of 2004 on the ZoHo label. In 2002, Liebman also began touring in a saxophone summit with Michael Brecker and Joe Lovano, augmented by the world-class rhythm section of Cecil McBee on bass, Billy Hart on drums and Liebman’s longtime colleague Phil Markowitz on piano. Their first recording together, Gathering of Spirits, was released in August on the Telarc label. Liebman is also the founder and artistic director of the International Association of Schools of Jazz, an organization dedicated to sharing the joy of jazz worldwide.

 

1. Walt Weiskopf Nonet

“Outsider” (from Song For My Mother, Criss Cross Jazz). Weiskopf, tenor sax, composer, arranger; Recorded in 1995.

 

BEFORE: Yeah, beautiful chart. Great writing. I have no idea who it is but it’s beautiful writing and a great saxophone player.

 

AFTER: Oh, it’s Walt! I know Walt. He sounded great soloing. I liked the piece…kind of big band-y, but not. Of course, saxophone heavy, obviously. Nice flow in the writing, melodically switching between the instruments seamlessly. I really liked the ensemble writing in the beginning. I thought the chart went on a little long and maybe you didn’t need all those solos, but that’s just a matter of taste. On a live gig, yes, but for a record I would’ve shortened it up a little bit. Because the writing was the best thing about it, and his playing. His soloing was great. Walt is a well educated musician who knows what he’s doing and you can hear that in his playing. Also his sound very unique. It cuts through, which is very good for this kind of situation because you can really hear it over the section. I enjoyed it very much.

 

2. Johnny Griffin

“All The Things You Are” (from A Blowing Session, Blue Note). Griffin, tenor sax; John Coltrane, tenor sax; Hank Mobley, tenor sax; Wynton Kelly, piano; Paul Chambers, bass; Lee Morgan, trumpet; Art Blakey, drums. Recorded in 1957.

BEFORE: Now, did Trane make a record with a couple horns? I’m not sure if it’s Paul Quinichette, maybe Mobley. Anyway, for sure, Trane is the second sololist here. First cat sounds like Johnny Griffin but the vibrato is a little heavier than normal. But the way he played was definitely coming out of that Lockjaw-Griffin school of burning, tongued-every-note, amazing technical, arpeggiated, killing tenor playing. Very straight ahead note-wise, just right on the chords and very diatonic in that respect, with really great saxophone playing. A little over the top for my tastes as far as aesthetic goes but nonetheless still great playing. And then Trane…it’s just so magical. He does everything here — the killing chops thing plus he does melody plus he hangs on the beat…so behind the beat for such a long period that you’re on the edge all the time, which is part of the thing of playing this music. I mean, when you’re going to play time, to me, if you’re not fooling around with the placement of the beat, you’re losing something that you could gain which is the mystery of where the guy is hanging on the beat. And that’s specially effective with a drummer who is playing in that straight ahead style like this guy. Is it A.T. (Art Taylor)? Trane is really playing great on this. He does a long eighth note thing. The trumpet player I don’t know, nothing special to me. And the last cat sounded like Hank Mobley with a little brighter sound and something a little different…but it does have a lot of Hank in it. Great melodies and very smooth, very creative within the harmony. That’s one of Hank’s great trademarks. I think he was one of the most sophisticated players.

AFTER: There’s another one with Paul Quinichette and Gene Ammons that Trane is on (Groove Blues, Prestige, 1958). At first I thought this could’ve been that.

Well, that didn’t strike me as Lee (Morgan) for some reason. But Trane is obvious here. He was the voice then. What year would this have been? I mean, he’s so sheets-of-sounded out there. This is around the time of Blue Train and this is just when he’s starting to get that aspect of his playing together. He’s really starting to tighten his shit up from ‘55-56, when he was playing with Miles. Now, by ‘57, he’s getting his shit together bigtime. And the sound and the vibe and his choice of melody versus speed was, I think, a very big innovation at that time. What he created harmonically and yet lyrically in the course of a solo was…I mean, outside Sonny (Rollins) who did it in a different way…was really unheard of. And you can hear it on this solo. It’s fantastic. This tune being an old warhorse, it’s a great thing to hear. I mean, what do you do after Johnny plays like that…the cat devastates the horn and tongues every note…you can only do your thing and just imply more than state. And Trane is great at that. Hank too. Hank sounded fantastic here. Nice record. Three very distinctive voices on the tenor sax. I have to remember this in light of what we’re doing with Mike and Joe. This is very much in that respect…three different voices converging on the same tune.

 

3. Stan Getz, Zoot Sims, Al Cohn, Allen Eager, Brew Moore

“Battle of the Saxes” (from The Brothers, Prestige). Getz, Sims, Cohn, Eager, Moore, tenor saxes; Walter Bishop, piano; Gene Ramey, bass; Charlie Perry, drums. Recorded in 1948.

BEFORE: Well, that was very different in a lot of ways. First of all, I couldn’t tell you the difference between who was playing. I don’t even know if it was three guys or four guys. There was such a similarity of approach and sound, such a sameness about it that I couldn’t tell who was who. It’s so Pres-ed out. I’m sure these guys, whoever they are, would just kiss the feet of Lester Young. It’s so influenced by him in every way — all their sounds have that veiled almost misty quality, like a blanket put over the tenor sound. It’s a beautiful sound in that respect and they all articulate similarly, which is not a very hard articulation, it’s very legato. And most of all their rhythm and choice of notes is so diatonic and lyrical, meaning melody above all. And their choice of pitches are the same…all the good, pretty notes. Not too many passing tones, which is very different from what we heard before. Right there is the summary of what Lester Young’s contribution to jazz was. Maybe that’s the sax section with Woody Herman, I don’t know. It’s one of those put together things…I could not tell you who they were but they all had a very similar approach for sure.

AFTER: It’s those guys! It’s the section. I wouldn’t know who was who but it’s all those cats, definitely, at that time period. I mean, this is like them absorbing the influence of their main guy, and you can really hear it. And one other thing, when you figure that it’s 1949…to have Bird and to have Lee Konitz and Lennie Tristano doing Intuition, and then to have these cats…you got three major approaches to the saxophone right there. And this was a great example of that Lester Young tradition. I mean, I was never attracted to this personally as far as my own feeling goes but I have a lot of respect for it and these guys really hit the nail on the head for a certain way of playing, no question about it.

 

4. Paul Motian

“Skylark” (from On Broadway, Vol. III, JMT). Motian, drums; Bill Frisell, guitar; Joe Lovano, tenor sax; Charlie Haden, bass; Lee Konitz, soprano sax. Recorded 1991.

BEFORE: I’ll betcha it’s Frisell, and it sounds like Joe (Lovano) on tenor. And that means that it’s Paul (Motian) on drums. It’s that group Paul has. Soprano? I don’t know who the hell that is. It’s nice, real nice. He’s got a different sound. The thing that’s interesting about this in light of what we heard…We heard the blowing session with Johnny Griffin, who is coming out of, in a sense, Coleman Hawkins. Then we heard the white brothers playing Pres. And now this approach here, in a certain way, is almost coming out of that Pres thing too. Of course, Joe is a little more sophisticated than the soprano player harmonically, but it’s still coming out of that melody thing and playing very close to the melody, Frisell stays very close to the melody…didn’t play much. In that way, it’s very convincing. I mean, that’s a beautiful tune. There’s nothing you have to do on a tune like that. Just play the damn tune and that’ll take care of itself. But Joe sounds beautiful on it. That’s what Joe does so well.

AFTER: That’s Lee? I’m very impressed. I thought they had done a record together. Lee sounds beautiful on it. You would never really think it was Lee because it doesn’t sound like his alto playing, approach-wise. I gotta tell him when I see him, I was very impressed. It’s great to hear. What a great voice. I never heard him play soprano before. When a cat picks up a horn that he doesn’t play that much it’s very interesting to hear. It’d be like me playing alto. You know, because it’s something you don’t really do and the question is, what would you do on it? Is it an extension of your voice? Is it something completely different? In this case, boy, that sounds different than I would ever associate with Lee. And it’s beautiful playing, really gorgeous.

 

5. Branford Marsalis Quartet

“Lykief” (from Requiem, Columbia). Marsalis, soprano sax; Kenny Kirkland, piano; Eric Revis, bass; Jeff “Tain” Watts, drums. Recorded in 1998.

BEFORE: Well, this is one of those cases of dressed up and no place to go. Lot of smoke, no fire. What do they do after this, these cats? The soprano player’s got a lot of chops. Everybody’s got a lot to say, they have one arc, which is start here and go there. Day and night shapes. It’s the way we used to play in the late ‘60s. That was the  thing, you had life and death, black and white, calm and crazy, air and then dense…extremes in one tune. But what would they do after this or before this? That would depend on the record maybe. The other thing is, this is what I call triadic Appalachian madrigal English folk song…sort of Ornette-ish but not as catchy in a way. In other words, triadic, churchy, harmonically not really too much to do so you fill it with other stuff, which they do very well in that respect. But there’s not much to go on. Long, long head, very extended and then they don’t really play anything  from the head. Playing like this is hard in a way because there’s not much to go on. You gotta be very artistic to make a statement that holds water on repeated listening. Now, in a little club or something like this we’d be very happy hearing this. We’d have a nice night, we’d have a beer, we’d feel good and it would be fine. But on a record for it to hold up it has to have a little bit more of a shape, I think…again, depending what else is on the record. But the soprano player is chopped out…some serious technique. I mean, way over the top. He doesn’t need that much to play what he’s playing here, but he sounds very good. I have no idea who it is. Could be anybody. Could be European cats but it’s almost a little too slick for that.

AFTER: That’s Branford? I would never think that was Branford. His chops sound very good but I don’t identify him with playing like this in general. Maybe that’s the reason it’s done in such extreme swaths. In other words, it’s not too subtle a message. Again, it depends on what else is on the record. There’s always room for a track like this. But would they play like this all the time, is this the way they play or is this their one-time shot at playing in this style? Because guys who play in this style usually have some mid-range stuff, which this didn’t have. But his technique is flawless, that’s for sure.

 

6. Lucky Thompson

“Beautiful Tuesday” (from Lord, Lord Am I Ever Gonna Know?, Candid). Thompson, soprano sax; Martial Solal, piano; Peter Trunk, bass; Kenny Clarke, drums. Recorded in 1961.

BEFORE: The soprano’s rough to keep in tune, man. That’s for sure. You know, you’re putting a lot of air in a small space, the mouthpiece is small, every move is critical…a move of an inch is a yard. It’s like the oboe, in a way. When you’re putting that much airstream into that small neck before it gets out of that botttom, everything’s critical. That’s why soprano is so difficult. So you really gotta watch your high notes, no question about it. This guy is slightly out of pitch, but it’s OK. It’s not that bad. He sounds like a guy who plays soprano as a doubler. In other words, Lee (Konitz) had a different voice on the soprano. He didn’t play it like he plays alto. This guy is playing it like he could be playing tenor or alto. Just conceptually he plays those kind of lines, which is fine. I’m not putting a judgment on it. Nothing remarkable about this. Nice interesting tune for this kind of bebop style. It sounds a little more interesting than usual.

AFTER: Oh yeah? See, Lucky was one of the first ones to play soprano. He’s right up there with Lacy, although he didn’t make a big thing out of it that we would know him for that. But Lucky is one of the cats who played soprano and brought it out early on. I wouldn’t be that familiar with him to say that that was Lucky Thompson but it sounded like a cat who was playing soprano as a tenor player, which would’ve been the way in those days. Steve (Lacy) is another story because he played clarinet and he played Dixieland, so he had a voice right away on the soprano. But both Trane and Wayne, you really gotta give it to them for ascerting that this is not just a double instrument, it’s another instrument so therefore another voice and therefore another way of playing. And that was really remarkable in that day and age not to have it just be a duplication of your style on another instrument. That was rare, at that point, in the early ‘60s. Now, of course, you’re expected to do that. But in those days, that was remarkable. Especially Trane. I mean, in ‘61…that’s Trane already.

 

7. World Saxophone Quartet

“Try A Little Tenderness” (from Rhythm And Blues, Elektra Musicians). David Murray, tenor sax, arranger; Oliver Lake, alto sax; Julius Hemphill, alto sax; Hamiet Bluiett, baritone sax. Recorded in 1988.

BEFORE: I mean, this band made a contribution, no question about it because who would put a saxophone quartet together like that? I mean, white guys wouldn’t do that, they would get it perfect. These guys have a nice attitude towards it, it’s churchy and stuff…I can go with that. But the performance was just not together. I don’t know if you don’t have enough time to do other takes or not, but the downbeats aren’t together here. Maybe there’s a calculatedness to it that they like. I never really go for this kind of stuff in general because I think it’s a little too obvious what you’re trying to do, voicing-wise and everything. It’s one of those older pop tunes, a nice tune. So in that way the voicings fit for what they’re doing. But there’s just a certain thing that I just look for when I hear somebody play, and it’s beyond style because it doesn’t matter if it’s inside, outside or whatever. It’s a certain amount of control over what you’re doing. And control means…again, notwithstanding stylistic differences, I mean, but if you’re going to play a flurry of notes and you’re going to play up and down and stuff like that, there’s a certain amount of cleanness on the beginning and end of a phrase that, to me, should be apparent somewhere. If it’s not for too long then I start to be a little bit disappointed in the performance. If this was a student I would stop the tape and say, “Where was your beginning, where’s you end, where’s your articulation? Maybe I’m not following your thought. Could you show me where the thought ends and begins? Maybe it’s beyond my hearing, I’ll admit that. But let’s go there and put a frame around it, because everything needs a frame in music.” I mean, you need some kind of frame. It could be long, long breaths and long frames, but you need a frame. This kind of playing sometimes to me feels like he’s turning the engine on and just going full-throttle without a pause. And there’s a place for that and certainly there’s people who love that and respond to that because of the energy level. But I’m not sure how much artisticness there is in it. And to me, after a while, it just gets to sound the same. That’s the way I hear it.

AFTER: Those cats, as much as I like some of them individually sometimes they seem to go there a lot, to me. We played opposite them once and I felt the same way. So that’s my feeling about that. But look, they made a big splash because they did things that other cats wouldn’t have done in a saxophone quartet, because usually it comes out of the classical tradition — it’s very clean, it’s very clear. When I do saxophone quartets it’s accurate and all that stuff. And this is like saying, “OK, let’s go.” On that level I can dig it.

 

8. Joe Lovano

“Eternal Joy” (from Trio Fascination: Edition One, Blue Note). Lovano, soprano sax; Dave Holland, bass; Elvin Jones, drums. Recorded in 1997.

BEFORE: Well, if that’s not Elvin it’s somebody who sure sounds like him. It’s very nice because Elvin’s not playing eight bar cycles, it’s a very open Elvin. This reminds me of the Puttin’ It Together record (Blue Note, 1968) with Joe Farrell, but that’s not Joe, I think. But it reminds me of the original trio when Elvin left Trane that preceeded my time with him. A lot of Joe Farrell influence there, a lot of pattern-type playing. Good soprano playing. I wish he would leave a little more space, especially when you’ve got Elvin. Is that Dave Holland? If you got that under you…especially a guy like Dave who is smart and knows what to do and when to do it…if you leave more space I think you’re gonna get a better effect on your solo. Maybe that’s the moment. It’s hard to hold back sometimes. Is that Joe Lovano on soprano?

AFTER: I’ve heard Joe play soprano but he’s got a lot of Joe Farrell in his playing on this. I’ll have to tell him that when I see him. What’s nice about it is he’s floating through it, keeping the thing going and they’re just circling around without any bar. The other record that’s really great for that is New York Is Now and Love Call. Those two records with Ornette, man…to me, that’s the top of the line for Ornette, along with the Golden Circle Stockholm recordings (with drummer Charles Moffett and bassist David Izenzon, Blue Note, 1965). The way that Ornette plays causes Jimmy and Elvin to circle around. The other Elvin record like that is On the Mountain (PM Records, 1975) with Jan Hammer and Gene Perla. If you got Elvin in the right situation, he didn’t have to mark off eight-bar forms, he could roll through it like no one else could, which would create an undercurrent for you to play over. And this track gets him to do that nicely. I enjoyed that man. It’s great to hear Elvin. Of course, when you give him a riff at the end and let him just go with something like that and just let it happen…that’s what he could do like no one else. That’s his thing, that’s where he comes from. And it was also nice to hear Elvin playing so softly behind Dave’s solo. He’s the greatest example of controlling dynamics from top to bottom that I’ve ever known. That’s one of Elvin’s great contributions, dynamic range.

 

9. Steve Lacy

“Shuffle Boil” (from The Rent, Cavity Search). Lacy, soprano sax; Jean-Jacques Avenel, bass; John Betsch, drums. Recorded in 1997.

BEFORE: Yeah, Elvin and Lacy…the dearly departed. It’s been a bad month, man. Lacy’s contribution will live on forever. I never really directly copped anything from him for myself, musically, except just his honesty and straightforwardness. And one thing about Lacy…no matter what he played, whether it was with a Russian poet or some koto shit or Monk or his quartet or whatever, he always sounded the same. He transcended all styles and he was not adversed to trying them, as we know, everything. And he always sounded like him, which is very slow, methodical, mostly eighth notes. Sound above all.  Very thoughtful. And very much like his personality in the respect that he was a master of the one-liner. Like, if you asked Lacy a question or would say something to him, he responded with, “Yes, exactly.” Very economical, no explanation needed. And the way he played was the way he was…very economical, no excess, no fat on the meat, absolute filet mignon only, right down to the medium rare. And for that I’ll always respect him, for his thoughtfulness and his economy and sincerity. Because Lacy was a great example of artiste, period. We did some solo and duo things together in a church in Italy once. He’s a master of the solo horn. I mean, to get up and do that in front of an audience…piano’s one thing, guitar…maybe, but to get up there with a soprano saxophone and play an hour and a half and make it a trance and get you into it…that’s Steve. Braxton too, of course, but Steve moreso in a way because it’s so concentrated. He was like that Japanese painting style…that one-stroke shit. Cats put the black water paint down on parchment in one stroke…boom…one after another. Lacy was like that, very direct communication. What it is is what you got, nothing more. That’s what it was. Yeah, he was something else, man. And he also had a unique setup — big opening with a small reed. 12 opening or a giant F, H, Z opening on Selmer and a #1 reed, which is like an unbelievable combination. Which enabled him to do what he could do. Because you can control the reed but you really have to be at a certain level of intensity. I couldn’t play his setup at all, but you know, guys can’t play mine either. That’s part of what it is. But he had a very unique thing. And then, of course, going to one instrument and staying on it and not switching around, which you know I did for 15 years with the soprano…I think that’s important and he’s an example of that. He just stayed there from 1960 on, and therefore mastered it and became its friend. That’s to be respected.