online book available through bestsaxophonewebsiteever.com;
conducted and transcribed by Doron Ornstein

Doron:

As far as expressing yourself artistically, when you play it’s obvious that you’re in a zone, you’re not just playing mentally or by plan; can you describe what it feels like when you’re playing in a real life musical situation and you’re in that zone where the music just seems to play itself?

Lieb:

“For those moments when I, as a horn player, am playing in front of a good rhythm section I’m simply ‘the king of the world’, wonderfully expressed in French as ‘le roi du monde.’ Everything is perfect. One has complete control. You can do whatever you want within that inhabited space in the moment. You are truly the master of the universe…not the cliché, the real deal.

“Getting to that place takes years of experience and observing those who are ahead of you on line in that way…the masters. There is a confidence, an unseen swagger and assertiveness, even if the music is gentle. It’s so good that all you want to do is repeat it like a junkie hooked forever. Hopefully this happens to varying degrees every time you play.

“Sometimes it’s really amazing while other times it’s ok, and on occasion, it just doesn’t happen. You have to be ready to accept that and be onboard for an ever-changing situation concerning the ‘zone.’ When it’s right, it means that you’re at the top of the mountain, hopefully with everyone on the bandstand and the audience there with you in a team effort, in some ways much like sports. Everyone isr eady to play and ‘talk’ with the people who are listening, which is an important element.

“People always want to know what effect the audience has on a performance. Without kowtowing, without putting on pink hair and smoke bombs, I want the audience to love it, and I can feel when they do.. If they don’t, I go on, but I would certainly rather have them like it than not, all of which adds to the excitement of the moment.

“We’re all in it together. In a way it’s a communal act and almost religious – however you think about that aspect of life. By that I mean, it’s a calling to the higher spirits, referred to differently depending on the culture and religion.

“That’s what we’re doing when we’re together with four people. Not more than four, five maybe, because then it’s another story. I’m not discounting a sextet or a big band, but five people on one mission is plenty of activity, plenty to get pretty high off of, towards traveling to the cosmos. That’s really the zone we reach for.

“I’ve got to tell you something…I think that’s why we play this music. If a twelve year old kid gets interested, he or she doesn’t understand the details we have been discussing, but somewhere in their being, they want to go to that place, making them ready to practice and accomplish all the mechanical and technical aspects to get there. It’s beautiful.”

How to create the setting for the “zone” to occur: “Certainly there are some artists who do things, anything from a prayer to a chant, to a drink, to a pill, to whatever it is for the day or for who you are. I’ve been around; I’ve tried and done everything in that respect. Our generation was the tester for many of these things. Whatever works, works. Obviously you don’t want to harm your body or anyone else. If you find something that helps you, I say use it on your own in moderation and privately, meaning it’s nobody else’s business. Whatever makes you ready for the stage to search for those ‘king of the world’ moments is fine. I don’t like when anybody (in authority) ‘suggests’ to others to follow some particular method or whatever. I’ve had that confrontation on occasion with some people who were, in my opinion, a bit over the top in that respect. The bottom line is that if you find something that works and once again, is not harmful, you have the keys to the kingdom!!

“For me, at this point in my life, I like to have a glass of wine or a drink, hang out with the guys while keeping the atmosphere light, maybe mentioning something about the music, (although by then there’s not much to say). Just try to make the coming event, the performance, as natural as possible.

“I think it’s an extension of life. In other words, I’m there and I’m ready to follow the natural path of discovery…..no big deal, no smoke bombs, nothing fancy or stuff like that……straight ahead with a big tone as a friend of mine used to put it.

“Jazz is a very understated music withiut pretension. I think that is what appealed to me abofe all the first time I saw the Coltrane Classic Quartet…no show, just the music. When I see or hear someone or a group going the ‘show-biz’ or phony way it upsets me – I just can’t stand it. In the final analysis we are basically 4 or 5 folks in a bar, against a wall, in the corner, playing. That’s the reality of it. If it happens to be a different setting, fine; but it’s not any more or any less than that. It’s the natural pursuit of group activity towards a common goal. That’s what human beings do. They build cities, they make bombs, and they play music. That’s what we do.”

WITHOUT A NET

Review by Dave Liebman

For me Wayne Shorter is THE composer of the last half century, much like Duke and Monk were for previous eras. Most strikingly there is the constant evolution from the beginning compositions for Art Blakey in the early ‘60s (“Lester Left Town”) through the Blue Note recordings (“Speak No Evil” etc.); the notable “Native Dancer” (“Black Beauty”) and Weather Report (“Elegant People”); and the past 20 years with his solo work (“Three Marias”) of the ‘80s and ‘90s through the present group of the past decade.  There is no other composer in the history of jazz with such a progression of stylistic change over that length of time.

As an improviser Wayne’s playing has always reflected the modus operandi that is part and parcel of any great composer’s methodology: theme and variation, timing of events, slow development, etc. These are constants in his playing even as his style has evolved over the decades much like the writing. Wayne is the composer as player while the majority of jazz musicians compose as an extension of their playing The underlying and consistent premise is the constant manipulation of the classic artistic mantra evident across all artistic endeavors… tension and release. To balance surprise and expectation in an evenhanded manner is in the final analysis what makes something work artistically speaking, especially in an improvising genre like jazz where there is no pre-planned agenda. In Wayne’s case this tension/release scenario is clearly and consistently demonstrated across the five elements of music: melody, rhythm, harmony, color and form.

Melodically, Wayne’s choice of notes veer between dense, fast chromatic runs that sound like a blur to clearly lyrical statements, while rhythmically Shorter is constantly on the cusp of inside and over the prevailing pulse rarely if ever playing the lingua franca of dotted/triplet based eighth notes one is used to hearing in jazz. In the harmonic realm everything is there….pedal points, vamps/ostinatos (amazing how much he can get from a one or two bar repetitive pattern) with occasional use of dense harmonies offset by more consonant sonorities. (When Wayne was with Miles Davis, this was largely the opposite case.) Color refers to the instrumental sound which in Wayne’s case includes an unusually diverse array of articulations from marcato/staccato to glissando; a searing sound in the upper register of the soprano sax contrasted with a more transparent and lighter tone in the lower; also extensive use of a wide dynamic range. Form in this discussion means the overall shape and emotional impact of his solos which never follow a predetermined or repetitive pattern. He does often begin haltingly (subtone register of the horn with little spurts of ideas behind the piano) leading to a climax that is crystal clear and not formulaic. Wayne is the ultimate programmatic artist, but subtly accomplished.

This present recording clearly demonstrates the points described above. Credit must be given to the rhythm section that has been together for over a decade. Others of Wayne’s stature present new “projects” year to year but Wayne has stayed the course and apparently agrees with me that a steady group is truly the way to find “improvisational bliss.” The dialogue between John, Brian and Danilo is constant and virtuosic with “solos” often not clearly delineated keeping the listener fully engaged. The three men each contribute in a unique manner: Brian’s explosive drumming marks off the energy and story line of the music; John is absolutely committed  to the task of keeping things together while Danilo serves as the front line partner of Wayne both accompanying and as the second soloist.

Returning to Blue Note Records after forty plus years, this live recording is a gem. The standout track that highlights all of the above in one performance is “Pegasus” featuring the group with the Imani Winds. This track alone could stand as a summary of Wayne’s present writing and playing as he approaches 80 years old. There is no doubt that Wayne Shorter has and continues to make a major contribution to the music of our time.

June: First of all, I want to thank you so much- I know you have a busy schedule and you’ve got so much going on; I do appreciate you taking the time to do this for me. It’s wonderful. So, how are you?
Dave: I’m good. I’m sitting in the office trying to do some catching up. I’m doing a record of Beatles tunes….
June: Oh, great.
Dave: Fifteen tunes that I’ve been fooling around with.
June: That’s great. I thought of you right away when it came to this project regarding the Hindustani Indian music as applied to jazz, as I knew you’ve had some dealings with that and some influence along those lines. Could you tell me a little about your first encounters with Indian music and a little bit of those stories, what inspired you, what aspects of it interested you right away, etc.?
Dave: Absolutely.
June: Thank you.
Dave: First of all, I am from the 60s generation. Collectively we had much more access to “world music” than previously. And you know, in some ways you’ve got to thank the Beatles for exposure to the whole Indian vibe in America. Certainly-it was here-guys would come to do their spiritual studies and so forth, people would go to India and so on, but for it to be on the map, it was really in the ’60’s. Of course, Ravi Shankar stands out as one that people like me would have heard probably, first.
June: Yes.
Dave: And this, of course, was one of my first exposures to any kind of world music at all. I mean, as I said, it was not that common to find it then. I was very interested in it and in some sense confirmed all this interest when I recorded “On the Corner” with Miles Davis which has the Indian element front and center.
June: Oh, yes.
Dave: And at the same time I did John McLaughlin’s album called “My Goals Beyond.” That was 1971 or 72; and on that record he had Badal Roy, who, in your work, I’m sure you’ll come across. Badal was not, by trade, a tabla player. He actually went to America to study accounting at NYU- but was Indian and hung out at the Indian restaurants in an area near Second Avenue and Sixth Street which was very well known for a lot of restaurants. He started playing tabla and John McLaughlin walked in, had Indian food, and said I’m doing a record and I’d like to have tabla. That was my first exposure hands-on to seeing a tabla in front of me and playing with it. By complete chance, and because Badal was in the right place at the right time, about a year and a half later, he ended up on some tracks of “On the Corner.” I looked over there and heard the sound of this instrument and of course, on that recording there was also a sita. I said “Wow, this is it!” This is what I’ve been listening to -there it is- so enchanting and so beautiful, hand drum-the way it sounds, the pitch and everything. Eventually, to make a long story short, after Miles I began my first band as a leader with the name Lookout Farm. In those days we all had band names. I had Badal in the band for a good six to nine months, culminating in a state department tour of India in 1975. So over this period-from the mid-sixties until the mid-seventies, I was just very enamored by Indian music. I had the vocals with the Daga Brothers, the Ali Brothers, Bismillah Khan who played the shehnai, which is a sort of a big oboe and so on. I just loved the music. In 1976 I took a year and a half in California to live in the Bay area, and I studied what’s called the bansurai flute, you know, the long bamboo flute. I studied with a man who was studying at the Ali Akbar School which was in San Rafael, and I think it’s still there. It was quite a center for learning Indian music. So I would say, to sum it up, it was a ten year period, more or less, where I was really interested in it, trying to play it on the Indian flue, trying to play it on the regular C-Western flute, and really trying to incorporate it in my music. I had Indian based tunes; one of my records, an A&M record called “Sweet Hand Roy” which was what I called Badal because when you said to an Indian someone has “sweet hands,” that means one has talent.
June: Interesting.
Dave: He became a very personal friend of mine. There were two specific things I got from Indian music besides the spiritual aspect which is very heavy. Indian music, of course, is very concentrated on rhythm and melody with no direct harmony outside of the drone that may be going on. Because of that, like every music, when you concentrate on one or two areas, that will enlarge in scope more than if you were spreading it out thinner. The things they do with rhythm are beyond the comprehension of anybody west of the Ghanges River.
June: It is amazing.
Dave: When you get to the south of India, the rhythm really gets deep. We did see some of that on that Indian tour. But the thing that specifically was instructive has to do with singing- because I’m a saxophone player. I play one note at a time, and my job in the end, no matter what pyrotechnical stuff I do, no matter how many chords I play per second and all the technical stuff that I do, I am in the end, an extension of the voice. We are singers and we therefore are responsible to really understand what we mean by playing a melody. It sounds simple, but it’s not that easy
June: Yes.
Dave: It means that all the nuance and inflections and, let’s say “feeling” that you put into the notes is about making a lot out of a little. I mean, a raga is, if anything, five notes that you will hear being played the way they do it in India for maybe eight hours!! They don’t fool around-they take these five or six notes and they are going to extend it with variation. And it all comes from inflection, from little trills, vibrato, etc. In the case of the flute it’s how they use their air stream; if it’s the sitar, how they bend the note with their fingers. Each instrument has its own idiosyncratic stuff. That is really what I learned, an understanding of melodic interpretation beyond the Western way that we have through classical music like Puccini and the popular singers like Sinatra, Sarah Vaughn. It is in the final result the Eastern way of looking at things. Within that there are differences….Japan is different, China’s different, they all have their little unique way of doing it. But I was really able to find other elements to put into my own playing in the sense of melody and of course, the rhythm. If there’s any music that is directly tied to spirituality, I don’t know a better example than Indian classical music.
June: I agree. My studies have shown the same. I’m actually studying with a Hindustani vocal instructor who has had a little bit of dealings with some jazz musicians, but was surprised to learn that not all jazz vocalists improvise.
Dave: Yes.
June: Because in their tradition, of course, it’s a big part of what they do. I’m making a lot of connections that way in terms of the similarities, but of course there are some differences. I come pretty heavily from an improvisational aspect of things. Of course, rhythmically there is so much they have to offer; the lines that they can concentrate on and retain -those rhythmic complexities are amazing. I’m also studying the ragas and a lot of the scales, the similarities between them and our modes in jazz and how we use them. Had you had any direct dealings with that? Did it affect you compositionally as well, would you say?
Dave: Well, you know, a lot of their stuff is microtonal.
June: Yes.
Dave: Which is, of course, of interest to you as a vocalist and to me as a horn payer, which is the extension of a vocalist. It certainly does not really fit the piano, which in the end is the source of Western music. But inflecting a note is part and parcel of what we do in jazz and that reservoir of expressive devices may have been affected through whatever absorption and study I did of Indian music, particularly in that ten year period. You know, with music, as you know, when you do it for twenty, thirty, forty years, whatever you do – water seeks its own level. It will get there – it may come in different appearances and in different periods, depending on what you’re involved with. But when it lands in your body-it becomes part of your physical being, which, in the case of a horn player is very important, because your voice is your body. My instrument comes directly out of my voice, and so forth. That stuff will manifest itself in some way.
June: Wonderful. I do appreciate that-yes. I understand. One last question: From the jazz instrumental perspective-in my research, I’ve found quite a bit of this new hybrid of jazz and Indian music going on with a lot of the younger players. Are you familiar with any of them, or have you had contact with say, Rudresh Mahanthappa?
Dave: Yes, Rudresh studied with me in the eighties and Vijay (Iyer), of course, I’ve seen him and heard his music. They are probably among the first jazz “Indo-Americans” (you know, like we say “African Americans”). They are of Indian descent and they bring a seemingly more direct aspect of that into their music but there are people who have done this before like Jan Garbarek, who is, of course, on ECM Records and very famous from Norway. He plays soprano and you get a vibe- it sounds like an Indian instrument. You must check out Jan Garbarek- he has a lot of records out. There are some where he absolutely throws down as far as an Indian influence is concerned. Indian music was the first on the map of the world musics to be widely known in the ’60’s and exerted a strong influence on several generations. Now, it seems everyone isinvolved in world music. In fact, I just put something up on facebook three days ago – I gave a concert at Oberlin….
June: Oh, I saw that -I wanted to check that out when time I had a moment. That looked great!
Dave: That instrument is a kora, Western African. The guy is American and has been studying the kora music. This thing of the combination of jazz influences with world music is now very topical and very hip and very on the spot.
June: Tell me about the tour you did of India in the 70s.
Dave: It was a state department tour-we did eight cities in two weeks going north, south, everywhere.From what I understood, we were the first “jazz” group to be there since Benny Goodman went in the fifties.
June: Wow!
Dave: I don’t know how true that was. Of course having a tabla player from Bangladesh where Badal was raised did stir up a hornet’s nest when for example we played Calcutta which at the time was ground zero for Indian music. You had people who loved it, and people who were detractors, obviously, but the reason I was doing it at that time was because it was on the plate and as I have alluded to there was an obvious spiritual element to the music. I mean, they do not fool around. When you hear the flute playing that raga – the twilight raga, or whatever they call it, whichever time of day it is-you can hear the spirits going at it.
June: Yes
Dave: I mean what ceremony the particular raga is attached to, which they all are. You’re just immediately transported into another realm. I mean, this music goes right to the center of the sh*t. When it gets into the rhythm, the intellectual aspect of what they’re doing, as you know is unbelievably complex. They make us look like babies in our 4/4 world. And no matter the instrument the musicians can sing everything. In their culture you do not learn an instrument until you can sing the basics.
June: There’s a saying that if it’s expressed over in India that you’re a musician, they ask you, “Oh, what style do you sing?” first -they just assume that before they ask you what your instrument is-
Dave: Yes.
June: ….because everybody comes from that background. Whereas here they ask you, “What do you play?” It’s such a different perspective.
Dave: Well put. They all have to sing. The drummers have to sing, and that’s a great thing, especially with the pitches that are produced by the tabla. I do a lecture about transcribing and how important it is. The real reason we transcribe besides getting the notes and the shadings and all the obvious stuff is to get the phrasing, the vibe and the way the guy played the notes. When I play my examples, the first thing I play for them is a lesson of one of my students in India playing shenai. He went to India and sought out a master. He went to live there with the family sittng in the master’s home six months at
a time playing three times a day. Of course, everybody else takes care of the business of life obviously, but the point is that in India, it is an oral tradition. The master plays aline, the guy has to sing it, and then he has to play it, and if he’s off, the guy goes back, and they do three notes for thirty minutes. That tradition is what you really hear in the music.
June: That’s amazing.
Dave: Yes.
June: Listen Dave, I want to thank you once again for your time- this is invaluable and your spirit in being willing to share with me is wonderful.
Dave: When you get something to send me, please let me hear it.
June: I certainly will. Thank you!
Dave: Take care.

by  DAVID LIEBMAN (for All About Jazz, NYC)

 There’s no question that I am going to get pinned to the mat, condemned for being close minded, negative, purist, sour grapes and definitely politically incorrect for what I am writing. It is very specific, concerned with jazz musicians being hired to play in pop situations. It is not about musically “crossing over” which is another topic.

First of all, a few obvious points: Making a living playing creative music is hard enough without turning down good paying gigs, especially if they are musically passable (a separate question beyond this scope). Maybe the financial freedom which comes from a lucrative gig, even temporarily, means an artist can devote more time to his or her own art which is not a bad payback. On the “good vibrations” front, a friend mentioned the positive aspect of “musical generosity” which results when a jazz musician joins a pop artist to make music or by extension any stylistic crossover, something which can’t be denied. And who is to say that such and such a pop artist is not as sincere in their music as I am in mine? This is what they do and of course if it communicates with people, all the better. (Unlike most serious jazz performed for as few people as possible it seems.) I remember discussing this with Chick Corea years ago. His opinion, at least from what I could gather (influenced by Scientology I suspect), was that the measure of artistic worth is its success at communication, which in theory has obvious merits concerning why we create in the first place, but as a guiding principle can get out of hand.

I am not in virgin territory when I discuss this subject. My wife, who is a jazz musician, and daughter are respectively fans of Aerosmith and selected hip hop along with Coltrane and Judy Garland…quite a combination in our household!! The drummer in my present band has had a rock band for years. And for those who are not familiar with my background, I was sort of there at the beginning of so-called “fusion” with Miles Davis, several rock-jazz bands (Ten Wheel Drive, Sawbuck, Ellis-Liebman Band), my own first group “Lookout Farm” which included tablaist Badal Roy and have recorded several times under my own name in that style. I write from experience, and more than anything I do so after several decades of maturing as a player and artist. I would not have written this some years ago, but thankfully we grow with time.

So here’s the scenario. A pop or whatever style player wants to “expand” and hears so and so’s voice as an improviser in their music. Usually, but not always, it is someone already well known which stands to reason since that it is who they would be aware of in the first place for obvious reasons. They are not about to spend time researching beyond the surface to check out lesser known artists of equal or more talent. Someone makes the call and asks would you be interested, offering more money than one could ever make in that period of time, be it a tour or recording (tour after of course) and so it goes. The pop person has crossed the proverbial tracks, entered the ghetto and offered the sky to someone who can’t say no. Their gain is credibility, showcasing an artist with years of musical training and sophistication, who has in one way or the other made sacrifices for the music. It goes without saying that in the final result jazz people are the best all around musicians as a whole and can play most anything. Of course this package is paid for in cash. If it is a one time event like a recording, maybe this discussion is unnecessary, but in essence the principles remain the same.

Then the artist in question tells his boys:”You know, so and so’s music is really pretty hip and deeper than you think. And you know, people might know me more after so it could help what WE do.(I can tell you that is rarely the truth.) Anyway, it is only for a short time and let’s face it, the bread is nice.”

Sorry, but as hip as the music may be, the whole pop premise is for people to buy the music, period. It is geared, whether obvious or not, for people to love it and when I say people, I mean the common denominator, meaning the most you can get. A pop artist, with all the money that goes behind them must maximize their potential or they are finished. Opposite stands the artist who creates for their own needs in the pursuit of a sound, a way to play, a concept. This takes years of study and discipline without material rewards. Most of all it takes 100% involvement with no breaks for fun and games. Obviously most artists have to give up something in terms of time to devote to the art, whether it be for family, personal problems, necessities of life, etc. But one is at least artistically independent and in as much control of their life as can be expected. To give up that creative freedom (as musically agreeable as it might be) and have to heed someone else’s interpretation as to what is right or wrong to play doesn’t seem right. On one record date for a well known singer I played “chromatically” on a dorian scale for two bars and needless to say my solo didn’t appear on the recording. This was after I was called in to “be myself!!” Obviously if I am a sideman with a peer and want to help them realize their creative work, I will gladly accede to the leader’s wishes. Or if I play with someone ahead of me, a more experienced artist who has something of value to show me, the same is true. But to expend my energy towards music that is probably below my skills and aesthetic, taking into consideration all the sacrifices and time I have spent, for the sake of selling more product and glorifying something that is not what I wish to represent is wasting valuable time in my opinion.

I don’t want to speculate on whether Trane would’ve done it, etc. Look at Miles,  and even the great Sonny Rollins played with the Stones, etc,etc. Every situation is different but a good guideline in general when considering projects to play on could be: ”Would I do play this music if I had ten million in the bank?” If you ask yourself that very basic, exaggerated, rather crass question or something like that, you may be on the way to an honest answer. Believe it, every note you play reflects the validity of all the decisions you make in life. As a young musician one should experience it all, but sooner or later you have to draw a line in the sand.

From Inayat Khan (Sufi writer/musician) on music: “If a person makes his own voice artificial in order to convince people, in order to be more audible, and in order to impress people, it only means he is not true to his spirit. It cannot be. It is better for a person to be natural in his speech with individuals and with the multitude, rather than he should become different.”

by DAVID LIEBMAN

 There seems to exist in the human psyche a primitive urge to belong to groups. From prehistoric men gathering together in hunting expeditions to modern team sports, the species apparently finds solace and comfort in banding together. In the history of music, this is no less true, whether it be the group of chanting Tibetan monks or the symphony orchestra. For jazz, this tendency is revealed in the big band.

The development of big bands from their beginnings are well documented (especially by Gunther Schuller in his book on the subject). Jazz enthusiasts are certainly knowledgeable about how in some respects the evolution of the big bands parallels the early musical developments which characterized jazz from Count Basie to Duke Ellington to Benny Goodman. In fact, a plausible case could be made stating that the big band story IS the history of jazz through bebop.

But outside of nostalgia and historic interest, exactly what is the relevance of the big band today? Does it serve a function besides the obvious need to be with each other? This is especially interesting for America where big bands flourish in high school and colleges. On any given weekend during the school year, one can attend a “jazz festival” at any number of schools and listen to dozens of bands perform, sometimes for only a few minutes and often in a competitive, award-oriented atmosphere, replete with uniforms and the like!!

If you compare how people function in a big band to the way they do on a sports team, there are several points in common. It is where the interested amateur or youngster (who plays a big band appropriate instrument such as reeds, brass or rhythm section) develop and test their skills as a musician. They can also enjoy the act of playing/performing without being too self conscious. After all, one is part of “section” where the whole is larger than the individual parts. The skills learned by blending with each other are elemental to playing any jazz at all. Matters of phrasing, timing, interpretation, intonation, swinging, expressiveness, listening and other tangential skills are exposed and demonstrated in a big band setting. Surely these aspects of music can be learned in a small group, but not without a greater emotional and personal toll, depending upon the talent and temperament of the individual involved. The big band is a wonderful laboratory for learning what it is that makes jazz sound the way it does. And it is inclusive, meaning that people come together for a singular occasion. When a musical event can include approximately 10-20 individuals it has obvious social and cultural advantages which benefit all who love and work in the jazz field.

Mention should be made about the compositional process for big band. From Jimmy Lunceford to Duke to Gil Evans, Kenny Wheeler and Maria Schneider among others, the palette and possibilities of the big band encouraged their personal development particularly in the areas of texture and color. These possibilities are not available for the small group composer to nearly the same degree.

Finally, I can personally tell you that the feeling of playing a phrase reinforced by the poser of many voices behind or with you is exhilarating, both as a player and listener. There is nothing like the swing generated by so many people in synch with each other. The relevance of the big band is nearly equal in the social sense as well as musically. As a vehicle for expression, it will remain with us as long as people are playing instruments.

by DAVID LIEBMAN

The following is an introduction to Jerry Coker’s book on the art of ballad playing (Advance Music).

It was when I began working with Elvin Jones in the early 1970s that the true challenge of playing a ballad became clear as a bell. Before that I had played slow tempos for dancers, but not for listeners. The older guys used to talk about playing a ballad like it was the holy grail. With Jones, at least once a night I had a ballad feature which usually included either an acapella introduction or closing solo cadenza. And of course this feature spot would come after we had just been “burning” intensely on the previous tune. Just to drive the point home, every once in awhile as I was playing Elvin would croak out in that inimitable voice of his: ”Play the melody, the melody!!.” (He might add some other words also!!).  You have to remember that this most intense drummer of all time could also play the quietest brushes where one could have trouble hearing the tempo unless you listened closely to the stroke scraping across the snare drum. Even in my period with Miles Davis-although the music was funk oriented, there was one tune that was a kind of ballad and Miles would build the tension to an amazing boiling point of intensity before letting the dam break. He knew how to make the people (and the band by the way) wait. It made me marvel how he did it.

What it comes down simply is that the ballad is what people will remember. The main reason I think is because it is slow enough to absorb and observe intricacies by even the casual listener. Tone and expression, which after all are the true landmarks of an individual’s style become paramount in the ballad. This is the point during a set of music when the dynamics are soft (no drums to cover you up) and the intensity stays at a lower and more tolerable level. If you want to get to the people-the ballad is the sure way.

For me there have been several important ballad influences. Of course on saxophone one goes back to Hawk, Johnny Hodges, Pres, Bird and so on. But the most important to me would have to be Coltrane and Miles because their approaches were so different. Trane played the melody literally and by the use of expressive nuances like smears, vibrato, turns and portamentos in conjunction with his distinctive tone, he was able to depict a poignant picture. Miles also set a somewhat similar mood, but by different musical means based on alteration of the pitches of the melody, leaving out notes and adding other non-melody tones to create mystery. When listening to Miles play a ballad, one has to do a lot of work to fill in the holes. Once again, his tone was perfect for ballad playing. Playing a ballad is as close to using the voice that we as instrumentalists get and listening to singers of course is crucial. Sinatra and Carmen McRae were favorites of mine. Then of course there was the harmony created by pianist like Bill Evans, Herbie Hancock and others who along with their incredible touch (tone) were able to perfectly pick the right harmony to highlight the pitch choices.

Jerry  Coker gets it all right here as he always has throughout his illustrious writing career. The insights range from noting that our culture basically denies the whole concept of the “ballad” to giving the reader all sorts of choices as to how to approach ballad playing. Using the great tune ”We’ll Be Together Again” he traces the evolution of a ballad performance with recorded examples to help out. It is a subject rarely discussed or demonstrated and this book clearly puts the issue and how to delve into it on the table.

Jerry, myself and others like us, truly miss the signature ballad we had come to expect from an artist during a performance. It was our way to look deep into the artist’s soul . Take Jerry’s words to heart and read slowly while thinking about the consequences of his thoughts as well as the clear tools he gives for working the principles out. And remember fellow musicians, play a ballad at least once a night!!

David Liebman

Stroudsburg, PA USA

November 1999

by DAVID LIEBMAN

For an artist in any field, the entire notion of being judged is daunting. Depending upon a variety of circumstances and one’s personality, it is never easy to be criticized and invariably it is wonderful to be praised. After all we are all human beings with sensitivities. True, as Miles Davis remarked to me, one can make it a practice to ignore all reviews. On the other hand, I recall an interview with John Coltrane and Eric Dolphy in which thy responded to the critics who labeled their music angry and negative. (To me, that is incredulous since Trane’s music was among the most spiritual I ever encountered!)  And then there is the statement by Gene Lees: “All criticism is self justification!”

To be honest, I do feel that there can be something of value to be learned from a serious expert commenting on my work. One of the primary functions of art is communication and you can never be sure how the work is perceived “out there”. I have had reviews which did shed interesting light on some aspect and it has at times been illuminating as well as humbling. In any case, the whole subject of reviewing art raises timeless questions beyond one’s personal feelings, including the effect upon one’s career and the crucial problem as to whom is qualified to pass judgment.

 THE CRITIC’S FUNCTION

The function of the critic became necessary as soon as civilization passed beyond the communal stage and not everyone was present at the same time for performance, be it ritual, celebration, oratory, etc. The general public needs information about events happening elsewhere in order to prioritize their leisure time. More importantly, elucidation about what to expect can heighten the layman’s appreciation of a performance, especially in an unfamiliar language, be it abstract painting, modern theater, jazz, etc. Being human means having opinions and therefore expressing one’s taste in mundane matters as to which cereal to buy to more important issues such as choosing one’s friends. It is virtually impossible to be 100% objective, try as you can. Even a skilled historian purportedly relaying incontestable facts about a past event, shades the presentation merely by deciding on which points to present or omit.

Though it may seem obvious, a critic should make it clear that (s)he is expressing a personal opinion. It might be helpful to state one’s own biases as objectively as possible, at least somewhere in the review. For example, I am not a great fan of a certain kind of approaches articulation by some saxophonists. Equally, I don’t enjoy an entire school of thinking in relation to tone on the horn. On the other hand, I love the use of space in an improviser’s lines, as well as admiring drummers who play an interactive rather than merely supportive role, and so on. It is only being fair to reveal one’s prejudices as clearly as possible.

It is a cliché that you cannot account for taste. What is pretty to one listener may be annoying to another. So the question remains: ”Why should I trust your opinion(referring to the critic) more than another?” Is it because some magazine hired you as a so-called expert? How do we sort this opinion/taste-objective/subjective dilemma out?

 REVIEW VS. CRITIQUE

To answer this question I will describe what I perceive as the difference between a review and a critique. Curiously, the word critique has as its root the concept of negative opinion as in criticism. When the writer’s opinion and taste is the focal point, this constitutes a critique. On the other hand, a review should be the dissemination of information with the desired intention being elucidation. The idea is that with this information, the listener is equipped to form his own opinion.  The very act of review presupposes that the writer is recommending the work to be worthy of attention. In a review, there is no opportunity for negative opinion, because the gist of the writing should be objective information. In no case should a review turn personal. There is no purpose served when a reviewer negates an artist’s motives or personality. All that accomplishes is to reveal more about the writer than the subject. One’s ego shouldn’t become mixed with clear analysis.

A review should include some or all of the following aspects:

-An overview of the artist’s body of work with emphasis upon the recent past.

-Comment on how the work in question relates to the artist’s output.

-Insight into the technical and creative intricacies of the work with emphasis upon the artist’s concept. It might be helpful (time and space permitting) to question the artist directly or at least if notes are given, use them as source material. In other words, try to assert what the artist’s goals were.

-Any other relevant factors such as the other musician’s contributions, packaging, sound, etc.

-How or if the recording relates to the contemporary scene.

As a whole, the idea is for the writer to guide a reader through the work by highlighting various factors which shaped the piece in question. The challenge for the reviewer is to seriously consider the work and all its implications.

 WHO SHOULD REVIEW

The stickiest question of all concerns who is qualified to write in the manner I have described. In many other fields of life including driving a taxi or even operating a crane, there are exams which supposedly have to be passed. But there is no test for being a reviewer or critic. I feel that the musicians themselves should be reviewers. The best qualified person is someone who understands the intricacies involved because probably they have encountered this in their own work or studies. Such a reviewer would serve the cause best by sticking more or less to his field of expertise. A musician who has primarily recorded in the fusion field should probably not attempt to review free jazz and visa versa.

It is the expertise in the area combined with time spent that to my mind qualifies a musician to be a reviewer. It is well known that to appreciate sophisticated art takes time and experience. My appreciation of some musicians has both gone up and down over the years, and in some cases these views are radically different that originally.

Of course, artists themselves are an opinionated lot. They have to be because part of the artistic process is the necessity to sharply define one’s likes and dislikes for purposes of self awareness. But I do think that a mature artist can be fairly objective and in any case his familiarity with the subject outweighs any prejudices which  might be revealed. In the final result, each review has to be judged on its own merits.

Outside elements are always going to affect the reviewer’s job. Matters such as the demographics of a magazine or newspaper’s readership, space allowed, fee paid, etc. But if musicians would take the opportunity when it presents itself to seriously write about music, the listeners would be better served. In turn, this can only help the art form to survive. Finally, if the reviewer truly doesn’t like the work under review, (s)he should just pass. There is enough work available which can inspire the writer, rather than having to be negative. Finally, it is very important that musicians answer critics when they feel that they have been wrongly interpreted. This is the only way to stop perpetuating wrong information.

Obviously it is nice and a bit more honest when someone who is commenting on one’s work knows what you are doing to some extent. A critic should be conversant with at least a minimum of knowledge concerning the technical aspects that the people he is critiquing are dealing with. This means speaking the same or close to language to some degree. This goes without saying. On the other hand, too much knowledge can be a dangerous thing and when someone is an “arm-chair quarterback” (sports expression), there is an inherent danger of thinking FOR the subject: ” I would’ve, could’ve, might’ve played this at that point in the piece, etc., etc….. ” This is not right.

To be fair, shedding light on how an interested, experienced, non-musician listener reacts to one’s art can be of definite value. I tell students to put themselves in the audience (what theater people call the fourth wall) when they present something….meaning how is what you played perceived “out there?”

I believe in review, not criticism, meaning information, comment, elucidation, historical precedent, stylistic considerations, etc. but please no value judgments. We (the performer) know better than anyone what is going on. No one but us knows the real deal, so let’s keep things nice and clean concerning the role of a critic. Dan Morgenstern, Whitney Balliett, Leonard Feather were models in the jazz world…..Alex Ross at present for classical, etc., etc. The problem is money. If a magazine or whomever pays low, they get low. Translation….non-experienced, not ready for prime time writers who aren’t qualified or experienced enough yet and who in a lot of cases need to learn how to write decent prose. Being a “critic” is a serious job with a big learning curve. Done well, what we call criticism has an important role in the history of an art form. It places everything in the scheme of things, historically and contemporaneously when done well.

Dave Liebman

Oct 15 2011

Stroudsburg, PA USA

by DAVID LIEBMAN

(Introduction to Aebersold Play along VOl. 42)

As an aspiring young jazz musician I had always read in the history books as well as heard from the older masters that you had to play the blues to truly understand the essence of jazz. Coming from my background, the blues was not present except what I may have heard in the early days of rock’n’roll where the twelve bar form served as an important vehicle for artists like Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Bill Haley and Elvis Presley. Why was the blues so important to the history of jazz?

What strikes me as the most important aspect of the blues goes beyond twelve bars and jazz itself. It is related to the universality of the blues feeling.  Every culture, every human being can and does relate to the inherent cry heard in this music. Whether it be an Indian raga, a sad Scandinavian love song (like Dear Old Stockholm) or a song of mourning from Ghana, the feeling is unmistakable and within all of us. It is definite-a hook to hang your feelings as well as one’s beginning musical attempts towards expression. The blues scale we all learn so early in improvisational education can be immediately accessed and used. (By the way, this is not to say there is no such thing as a happy blues-but alas it is more rare.)

The earliest blues singers like Robert Johnson and Lightnin’ Hopkins to name only two  often didn’t adhere to the strict twelve bars that we are accustomed to. They let the lyrics lead the chords, so a chorus could be thirteen or eleven and a half measures in length!! In other words, the story line dictated the accompaniment. This evolved to the more standard call and response pattern we are used to which in an evolutionary milestone combined with European functional harmony (tonic, sub-dominant, dominant). The blues scale itself has an intervallic symmetry all its own of minor third, whole step, whole step, minor third, whole step. The blues scale even works in a polytonal manner by sounding over the three basic chords of a simple blues (I,IV,V). One hears blues scales throughout even non- blues tunes as for example in the work of guitarist Wes Montgomery.

There is a wealth of information to be gained through understanding the blues and by and large, all the masters have explored the form. Some altered it like Bird did in “Blues For Alice” or Coltrane’s “Pursuance” as well as Miles’ “All Blues”-but the essence remains the same. The blues is the first mountain a jazz musician must surmount and this collection will serve you well to begin that journey. Also recommended as you evolve is Volume 42 which features more advanced harmonies in blues formats through all the keys.

by DAVID LIEBMAN

The following was written in response to a request from Norwegian drummer Jon Christensen for David Liebman’s views on the direction that Molde and other festivals are taking. As such, it fits into the theme of this issue: where jazz is now:

One can be pretty sure that at some point in the adult life cycle, a mid-life crisis of sorts will occur. It’s a time when one stands on the precipice between a life full of accomplishments (at least to some degree) and the impending challenge of how to grow old gracefully. This is when the distance between long time desires and present reality is measured. The anxiety that accompanies this passage of life is notorious and well documented. Sometimes the remedies one applies may be impulsive or possibly even irrational, but hopefully all works out in the end and one’s future probably doesn’t change much at all.

On several fronts, jazz is going through a mid-life crisis. It can hardly be denied that while interesting combinations of eclectic influences are producing some viable new directions, the emphasis on retro and neo-classic jazz suggests a waning of the innovative energy which jazz enjoyed for quite a long stretch. This can be compared to other art forms at similar points in their development: after the necessary and exciting initial burst of creative fire comes a time of absorption, then retrenchment, then hopefully rebirth. This is a subject which can and should be discussed constantly.

However, a performing art such as jazz actually takes place in the real world and demonstrates every day the working out of the artistic process. From the very important standpoint of who is listening and supporting jazz, there seems to be a loss of confidence as to what we are all about, and our role in contemporary culture. This is reminiscent of a personal mid-life crisis.

Specifically, the question is why more and more classic jazz festivals have abandoned their birthright. They have adopted an attitude of ‘more is better’ and show a compulsive desire to have ‘change for change’s sake’. There is a desire to attract larger audiences, therefore having by necessity to offer more and more well know (and usually pop oriented) acts. It doesn’t take a genius to equate mass appeal with higher income potential- although even that is not an ironclad argument given the high overhead of hiring such performers.

Yes: if pure greed is the motivation one cannot argue with pop appeal. But is jazz a money making machine? Was this ever part of the equation? Those who love the music do so because of the need for reasons that have to do with any great and subtle art-the quest for beauty and honesty of emotions combined with sublime thought. Jazz artists themselves are a very unpretentious group of human beings-almost always self effacing and humbled by the music and its legacy. Why are we competing with a completely different life form-that is the mass appeal entertainer?

Those who make the decisions have abdicated responsibility and are giving in to the simple and easy pull of society’s more base instincts, which have and always will be the desire for power and prestige through making money. We who are aware of this shouldn’t let this ‘more is better’ philosophy subsume our ethic. This is happening all over the world!

There will be those who agree with this reasoning but point to dwindling public subsidies and the need for corporate sponsors which predicates a booking policy geared towards mass appeal. This is not the place to detail how, for example, instead of one mega festival we could have several smaller ones spread out over time and place. Or how to keep the pop and jazz field both operating but not in the same venue at the same time. And so on…

It seems to me that with the kind of sophisticated intellect commonly associated with the typical jazz fan and enthusiast (especially in Europe), we could figure out how to cope with the changing situation. But we must be confident in who we are and what we represent. If we doubt these basic assumptions about the mission of jazz and our role in accomplishing these goals, then we are only operating from a weak and continually threatened position.

It’s really simple and, once again, related to any personal crisis of doubt and misgivings one may experience in life. Realize and accept what you are where you come from and what you truly want-and move on from there. Good Luck.