YOUR sound, your voice

[Pat Harris]

While I don't often post on these boards, I do read them quite often and everybody has tremendous insight. I'm currently working on my master's degree in jazz studies having come from a classical background in my undergrad. However, I'm no stranger to the jazz genre, I've just never had any formal instruction. You've got to start somewhere.

It's been my observation that as a working bassist (jazz or otherwise) about 90% of what we do is totally conventional. The other 10% would be things like short fills or soloing. While I appreciate and love what Ray Brown, Scotty LaFaro, etc etc have done for the instrument, I find that when it comes to soloing, I just don't identify with that. Is it great to have those stylings within my facility? Of course, but I'm finding that I never feel authentic with my playing, at least at this point. For instance, I would love to play a solo like Bill Frisell, but on a bass. Does any of this make any sense? How do bassists become legit in their playing, because there's such a wide range of sound between them. What is seemingly happening, is that I'm constantly waiting for my body to catch up with my mind. I'm all over the map on this topic, but if anybody has any solutions that have worked for them, or stories, I'd love for you to share.

Thanks,
Pat

[charlespf]

Right, I know I've certainly been in a similar situation before, still am. I guess when it comes down to it, all you can really do to be genuine as a musician is to play what YOU feel. I know definitely when I'm soloing, many of my ideas tend to be slightly guitar-like, and that's just how I hear it in my head. I guess to me, it seems like the greatest bass players are just playing completely genuinely, not attempting emulation, which is why you hear such a range in style between different players. Charlie Haden, for example, plays very sparingly, as opposed to the barrage of notes you sometimes hear from Eddie Gomez. While both players are widely contrasting, what makes them great is that they just play. I feel like what you're describing is basically one of the things we as musicians struggle with our entire lives, really finding your own voice. So, while I greatly admire a player like Paul Chambers, I still play very differently from him, because what I need to express is different from PC.

I hope that all makes sense, it's pretty haphazard. I guess what it really boils down to is that as long as you stay true to your art, and play what you feel, you're on the right track.

[oliebrice]

Have you transcribed solos by your favourite musicians on other instruments? there is no reason why your main influences need be bassists, I would include Lee Konitz, Steve Lacy, Ornette Coleman
and Paul Bley among the very short list of my biggest influences, for example.
also, there are bassists who's solos would stand up alongside anyones - have you checked out Red Mitchell, Steve LaSpina, Michael Moore, Scott Colley, Drew Gress etc?

[Pat Harris]

Oh definitely, infact, most of my "musical inspiration" comes from non-bassists. My most recent goal (perhaps unattainable) is to try and capture Wayne Shorter-esquie phrasing using a bow. Then there's the solosists that I love, but have absolutely no desire to sound or play like them. I agree though, transcription is certainly the baptism by fire and I've learned more through that process than any class or lecture. Similarly, I find I learn just as much from watching musicians play as I do from hearing them talk about playing.

[David Kaczorowski]

What do you mean by you, "don't feel authentic?" Do you mean you're not playing the kind of stuff you hear in your head?

And what do you mean by 'waiting for your body to catch up with your mind?' You lack the technique to execute what you want to play? What?

[Jeremy Allen]

Originally Posted by Pat Harris

What is seemingly happening, is that I'm constantly waiting for my body to catch up with my mind.

My advice would be to avoid recognizing a distinction between "body" and "mind." Or, rather, to recognize the ear as being one of the intersections of mind and body (along with the other senses) at which the distinction is impossible to make.

Lest that sound too New Age-y, let me suggest some activities that will tell you whether you're at that point and get you there if you're not: 1) learn three Ray Brown solos by ear, singing them until they're memorized, without writing them down or knowing what key they're in (assuming you don't have perfect pitch). When they're memorized, sing them in different keys while mentally playing them on the bass in the appropriate key. When you pick up the bass, you'll nail the solos and know them physically as Ray knew them. If this seems like a huge task, just start with small fragments of the solos--four-bar phrases or even shorter--and sing them/play them around the key circle. 2) Get Phil Palombi's book of Scott LaFaro transcriptions and listen to the albums, singing the solos with the music like you were in church and reading the hymnal. Without ever picking up the bass or necessarily memorizing anything, you can bring yourself into Scotty's world of phrasing and melodic shape. Then, when you grab the bass, play the solos with abandon along with the recordings and sink into what that feels like. 3) Learn the solo of somebody (bassist or non) from a rhythmic standpoint only: transcribe, sing, and memorize just the rhythmic content (including phrasing), and play along with the recording using whatever pitch content happens to be handy. Follow the general pitch contours of the solo if you want, and even play the same specific motives or important arrival pitches if you want to, but don't get hung on specific notes. This can be very liberating!

The main idea that I try to get across to my advanced students is that there is no point in trying to "play what you hear" or to "realize on the instrument the sound you're hearing in your head." The knowledge has to be embodied physically in you already, and then the artistic impulse (or spirit, or whatever) will give shape to it in the moment without requiring a two-step process. As Bob Brookmeyer once said, "I don't play what I hear, I hear what I play, and every note I put out there opens up a huge number of possible next-notes." It boils down to ear training, which is something that can be accomplished in a very structured and pedestrian manner; but when the ears are there the artistic decisions will make themselves in a distinctly mystical way. Except it's not mystical--that's the Westerner in me talking. The Japanese have had this figured out for some time, and this is basically the idea to be found in "Zen In the Art of Archery." (Not "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance," although that's a pretty great book too.)

[Alex Scott]

Are you my alter ego? I kind of share some similar goals. If you are studying your masters where I was studying my undergrad, how is it going? PM if you want.

[Chris Fitzgerald]

Originally Posted by Jeremy Allen

My advice would be to avoid recognizing a distinction between "body" and "mind." Or, rather, to recognize the ear as being one of the intersections of mind and body (along with the other senses) at which the distinction is impossible to make.

Lest that sound too New Age-y, let me suggest some activities that will tell you whether you're at that point and get you there if you're not: 1) learn three Ray Brown solos by ear, singing them until they're memorized, without writing them down or knowing what key they're in (assuming you don't have perfect pitch). When they're memorized, sing them in different keys while mentally playing them on the bass in the appropriate key. When you pick up the bass, you'll nail the solos and know them physically as Ray knew them. If this seems like a huge task, just start with small fragments of the solos--four-bar phrases or even shorter--and sing them/play them around the key circle. 2) Get Phil Palombi's book of Scott LaFaro transcriptions and listen to the albums, singing the solos with the music like you were in church and reading the hymnal. Without ever picking up the bass or necessarily memorizing anything, you can bring yourself into Scotty's world of phrasing and melodic shape. Then, when you grab the bass, play the solos with abandon along with the recordings and sink into what that feels like. 3) Learn the solo of somebody (bassist or non) from a rhythmic standpoint only: transcribe, sing, and memorize just the rhythmic content (including phrasing), and play along with the recording using whatever pitch content happens to be handy. Follow the general pitch contours of the solo if you want, and even play the same specific motives or important arrival pitches if you want to, but don't get hung on specific notes. This can be very liberating!

The main idea that I try to get across to my advanced students is that there is no point in trying to "play what you hear" or to "realize on the instrument the sound you're hearing in your head."

While I agree that the whole thing has to end up as a very organic process for it to work, I still think the distinction is useful from a teaching/learning perspective. Instead "mind" and "body", I think of it as "conception" and "execution", where "conception" means what you can imagine (and, for more practical purposes, sing) and where "execution" means what you can actually, well....execute on your axe.

This point has been an important one for me since I've come through other instruments to get to the bass, and since the most recent previous one was a lot more facile (for lack of a better term) than the bass. What this meant for me was that I'd find myself hearing lines and ideas that would be perfectly normal fare for a piano player, but would require virtuoso technique to make it out of the bass...and a virtuoso is one thing I'm not. Other instruments have a much greater or easy capacity for things like fluid ornamentation, large skips in a line at higher tempos, gestures which cover large amounts of range in a short amount of time, rapid-fire attack and phrasing, etc. Listening to a great player on another instrument using these types of devices (among others) well can fill my head with all sorts of melodic ideas, even to the point where I can not only sing those lines over changes, but also begin to hear how to construct similar lines over different changes. In spite of this, there are plenty of these things that I can and do sing over changes that my poor technique will not pull out of the bass yet. In a case like this, I find it useful to think of the dichotomy to help me organize my practice time to favor the endeavor to be able to execute ideas that I can sing but cannot yet play. I have also see too many students focus on physical technique when the real issue is that they aren't really hearing what they're playing very well yet.

It boils down to ear training, which is something that can be accomplished in a very structured and pedestrian manner; but when the ears are there the artistic decisions will make themselves in a distinctly mystical way. Except it's not mystical--that's the Westerner in me talking. The Japanese have had this figured out for some time, and this is basically the idea to be found in "Zen In the Art of Archery." (Not "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance," although that's a pretty great book too.)

Now that, I agree with without reservation.

[Nils Ö]

Originally Posted by Pat Harris

It's been my observation that as a working bassist (jazz or otherwise) about 90% of what we do is totally conventional. The other 10% would be things like short fills or soloing.

It may be worth pointing out that "not soloing" does not necessarily mean "conventional". For instance Ron Carter almost never soloed with the Miles Davis Quintet (from what we can tell from recordings) but his playing was at least in some senses all but conventional and very much part of shaping the music.

[Jason Sypher]

Excellent thread and very thoughtful responses all. Your dilemma is one I felt the moment I began playing the double bass. I heard all these great players and I didn't want to sound like any one of them. Not even a little bit. Swinging phrases a la Paul Chambers sounded clunky and I hated the way the whole sound and momentum of the tune would almost deflate so you could hear what he was playing. Ray was cool but, well, Ray. Scotty was incredible but again, what was the point of trying to do that? It is a journey into the unknown and you have to be completely willing to go where ever it takes you. Maybe it's not jazz at all. I've gone around the world looking for inspiration and I've found it in the most unlikely places you can imagine. If you told me when I started playing bass that in twenty years I would be bowing appalachian fiddle tunes I would have thought you were nuts. I mean, even writing it I think its nuts! But I have been working on getting that out of the instrument and, you know, it's starting to happen. As crazy as it sounds I'm really starting to make it work and people are really beginning to hear the music. And I feel at total peace with it, it truly expresses my truth. My point is, you gotta play what is in you and the first step is to find out what that is. If you hear this sound, whether it be guitar-like or sitar-like or whatever you have to start looking for it. Don't be afraid of you own voice even if no one else can understand or hear it yet. It might take years before the average ear catches up but if it is music, good music, they WILL catch up. If you're in this to make a living then make a living and play what the people want you to play to get the paycheck. But if you're in it to make sense of your life and your place in the world then go the road less travelled. Your answer is on that road.

[Jeremy Allen]

Originally Posted by Chris Fitzgerald

What this meant for me was that I'd find myself hearing lines and ideas that would be perfectly normal fare for a piano player, but would require virtuoso technique to make it out of the bass...

This could indeed be the kind of situation Pat is struggling with. You really were hearing something, Chris, because you already had the physical knowledge to pull it off on one instrument. For me (and for the students I've had who made the same complaints), I found that if the ears and physical knowledge (execution) were not sufficient to realize the idea then the idea didn't actually exist in a usable form in the mind in the first place. Like, I would have an inkling of something, or a shape, or a faint ghost of music in my mind, but it wasn't really there because it slipped away when I tried to capture it. Like when you recollect in your mind a performance or a tune you don't really know--there's something there, you can sort of press "play" and check it out, but if you try to look too closely it's gone like a faint star you can only see out of the corner of your eye at night.

I notice this when I learn parts of a solo by ear and fail to grasp others--like the first half of Trane's solo on "Moment's Notice" (I should finish that one up sometime). When listening to the recording, the part of the solo I know is in 3D Technicolor (or, uh, 1080i High-Def or whatever), and the part I haven't gotten to slips back into a two-dimensional background.

(Well, this is becoming just a series of increasingly unhelpful metaphors.)

So, ear training (and, for me, lots of mental practicing away from the bass). Then you come to the realization that what you train your ears with can become the entirety of what you hear and you're in a chicken/egg conundrum. (I remember thinking I was so cool when I started unconsciously singing along with my solos--and then my piano player friend with monster ears shook his head and said "No, you're not playing what you hear, you're just singing along with what your fingers are doing on the bass." D'oh!)

[Chris Fitzgerald]

Originally Posted by Jeremy Allen

I notice this when I learn parts of a solo by ear and fail to grasp others--like the first half of Trane's solo on "Moment's Notice" (I should finish that one up sometime). When listening to the recording, the part of the solo I know is in 3D Technicolor (or, uh, 1080i High-Def or whatever), and the part I haven't gotten to slips back into a two-dimensional background.

(Well, this is becoming just a series of increasingly unhelpful metaphors.)

Not at all unhelpful! I think you've nailed the essence of it with the visual metaphor, especially as regards the part of the lines you are actually hearing and the part you aren't. I guess for me there's a third dimension to all of this, and it's the space in between what you can hear and sing and what you can execute at tempo and in time. For instance: when learning bop heads, if I can sing something slowly - in tune and in time - I can usually sit there for a few minutes and rinse/repeat while singing, after which point I can then sing the phrase (including all of those annoying chromatic details!) faster. If I rinse/repeat for a bit longer, then I can even mentally picture what my hands are going to have to do to get that sound out of my bass as I speed my singing up. At that point, I still have a lot of work to do make that sound speak on the bass. All of those Kenny Barron solos I learned on the piano years ago are etched in my ear (or could be easily "re-etched") as far as singing them in intimate detail; but if I try to get those interval patterns out of the bass, it's going to take me quite a bit of time to do that even slowly, much less at tempo (if such a thing is even possible).

In the above case, I think of it as kind of "purgatory" - while I'm not bereft of sounds/ideas that I want to play (which is a good thing), I'm not sitting up on a cloud with my heavenly harp wailing effortlessly either....so I gotta go try to practice my way up into the big guy's house. Or at least onto the edge of his lawn...

Man, talk about "unhelpful metaphors".

So, ear training (and, for me, lots of mental practicing away from the bass). Then you come to the realization that what you train your ears with can become the entirety of what you hear and you're in a chicken/egg conundrum. (I remember thinking I was so cool when I started unconsciously singing along with my solos--and then my piano player friend with monster ears shook his head and said "No, you're not playing what you hear, you're just singing along with what your fingers are doing on the bass." D'oh!)

Man, I bet we've all been busted doing just that, either by someone else or by ourselves. These days, I bust myself doing that almost daily, at least a little. Learning to be honest about what I am and am not really hearing is the name of the game if i want to get better. Ear training is indeed where it's at, and you've reminded me in this thread to encourage my students (and me, too) to focus on the visualizing aspect more as far as practicing away from the bass. How much do I owe ya?

[monkmonk]

Jeremy, I was wondering if you could please elaborate on what you meant by:
"Then you come to the realization that what you train your ears with can become the entirety of what you hear and you're in a chicken/egg conundrum. "

[Jeremy Allen]

Originally Posted by monkmonk

Jeremy, I was wondering if you could please elaborate on what you meant by:
"Then you come to the realization that what you train your ears with can become the entirety of what you hear and you're in a chicken/egg conundrum. "

I just mean that "you are what you eat." You may find that the materials you shed in your ear training end up becoming what you hear in your mind instead of simply expanding upon your natural propensities. So if you take three years of tonal sight-singing and ear-training at a conservatory, your ear begins to organize sounds according to tonal ideas (many Western musicians trained in this way will hear atonal music not in terms of pure intervals but in terms of an assumed key with right notes and wrong notes); then, when you sit down and sing a chorus on a jazz tune, that's how things may end up arranging themselves. I can't say that this happens to everybody, but I know that after I spent four years practicing major scales and their modes exclusively (I kept thinking of the story about Coltrane practicing in C major for eleven hours one day) I noticed that that's all that was coming out in my solos, even when I thought I was tapping into a vein of true creativity. I'm sure the same thing could happen if you worked on bebop licks all day--Sonny Stitt playing on "So What" is a pretty strange-sounding thing--or only on outside stuff.

I recognize that my own playing is shaped, bounded, and limited by what I practice and train my ears for, and I do feel like the technical limits of my skill on the bass have become the limits of my imagination, and that's the "chicken/egg" conundrum. But it's something that can be worked through, and I think we all go through periods where we alternate between states wherein the concept is more advanced than the execution ability and vice-versa. I think that's what Charlie Parker was maybe talking about in that famous quote where he mentions the importance of practicing your instrument diligently and learning every conceivable angle, and then forgetting all of that stuff when it comes time to let the creative impulse guide your hand. Easier said than done, but I think we've all felt it happening for at least one special moment, and it's a feeling to recapture.

[Sam Sherry]

Pat -- You've heard from some very, very sharp people. Time for the ignorant to speak up! Hopefully this will avoid retreading the fine advice shown above.

Originally Posted by Pat Harris

I'm currently working on my master's degree in jazz studies having come from a classical background in my undergrad. . . .You've got to start somewhere.

Jeez! You're starting from a place most of us never reach, working in a place most of us never reach! It's entirely possible -- indeed likely -- that you're doing swell and will be doing even more swell in a while.

It's been my observation that as a working bassist (jazz or otherwise) about 90% of what we do is totally conventional. The other 10% would be things like short fills or soloing.

On the one hand, speak for yourself. Your assumption reflects the music that you happen to be working on at this particular time in that particular place. Much of the music played by, say, Damon Smith or Dave Kaczorowski would be considered pretty unconventional by most folks this side of William Parker.

On the other hand, yeah, most players play in "inside" situations most of the time and there's nothing so bad about that. But many players find value in being able to play lots of kinds of stuff as the occasion and the music merits and their "unconventional" experienced influences their "conventional" playing. As you note there are an infinite variety of more-or-less "conventional" responses to familiar situations which the masters respond to by applying their own individual approaches. Scotty plays one way, Ray plays another, Stan Clarke another, Dave Holland another, all over the same tune at the same tempo, because they respond to the particular moment through their unique perspective. That does take time, practice and luck, I am told.

I'm finding that I never feel authentic with my playing, at least at this point.

It's the last three words that are most telling. You've said that you're new to the jazz idiom. Most folks find most of the time that it takes five years to get past the beginner's mistakes in anything worth doing. (At that point, of course, we're on to more advanced mistakes.)

For instance, I would love to play a solo like Bill Frisell, but on a bass.

Of course that makes sense, Pat. But re-examine what you've just said. You, a relative novice, would like to sound like [insert hero here], a master with decades of experience. From that perspective it's no surprise you're not there yet, right?

How do bassists become legit in their playing, because there's such a wide range of sound between them.

The other guys who've posted so far are much smarter and better players then me, and they're wicked good teachers too. All I can add is the viewpoint of someone who has struggled to find a voice in improvised music for over thirty years. My main point is to note that what I've been aiming for has changed, substantially and repeatedly, over that time. It changes based on what I'm listening to and what I'm writing. It changes TONS based on whom I'm playing with, both in the medium-term and in the moment -- y'know, different players challenge you in different ways and bring out different aspects of your musicality. I hate to say it, but it's slightly true that even your gear or your setup can change how you respond musically to a situation (or vice versa): If you're set up big and tall to carry a big band without an amp you may not be able to fly over the fingerboard in exactly the way that you might if your strings are way low and you're wondering about bringing an amp to a duo practice-session.

Bottom line, in case it isn't obvious, is that you ARE toward the beginning of a process. Engage that notion viscerally and you may find yourself simultaneously working harder AND cutting yourself some slack.

Good luck and report back in a decent while please.

[Zachmozach]

Isn't jazz improv 101 basically about developing your own vocabulary through practice? There's a finite amount of notes we can play and practicing patterns and concepts of soloing can increase our vocabulary. I'm a young player and by no means an expert but the time I've put in practicing bebop or even the solo literature has given me better vocabulary and I can better play what I want. I think that the beauty of jazz is having a sound in our head or searching for that sound and struggling to get it out is why I love trying to do it. I think that's why people who have mastered the art form and have been playing for years still do it. Keith Jarret for example. Just the way playing music makes you feel and the triumph of desire to play, and at the same time not care about playing. It's very Zen I guess as stated above.

[clink]

I may have missed some of this, so pardon me if this is redundant.
Effortless Mastery, the book by Kenny Werner really put my mind at ease about this whole subject.

Musicians will say something along these lines:
I don't play well, or sound good. Others will criticize my playing. Compared to my teacher, I suck. OK, so what!

We are all different and have our own voice no matter our level of play.

Ray Brown and Eddie Gomez
Christian McBride and Scott Lafaro
Paul Chambers and Ray Brown

These guys were/are much different players and on different paths.

I just try to do the best I can and enjoy the music that comes out of my bass. Sometimes it isn't so good, but other times I marvel at the stuff I play. Stuff comes out that I've never practiced that reminds me of the greats I look up to and listen to daily.
My Ipod has been my best new friend. The more I listen, the better I play.

My emphasis is this: Listen and enjoy letting the music happen. It is what it is. I hope to have another thirty to forty years to master it.

[Pat Harris]

Wow,

Everyone, this has been a tremendous help. I really value everyone's input, so thank you for all of the insightful responses! If anybody has anything to add, I've really enjoyed reading this thread. I'm glad you guys are able to take some of the "ineffible" qualities of jazz and music and put them in very tangible terms.

-Pat

[fingers]

Man. Great stuff. Thanks for starting this great discussion. I'm going to try some of the ear-training/transcribing/practice stuff folks have brought up.

I have had several teachers that were all very different in their approach to the bass. Some more philosophical, some more practical. Here are my two favorite ideas from teachers I've had. One very philosophical, one very practical.

"There can be no action without intention. Master the intention first and the action will just happen"

"If you are listening to a recording and you hear something you like stop the cd, pick up your bass, and figure out how to play it."

I think the hardest thing is honing in on what we really dig. There are certain recordings that have lived for extended periods in my cd player. I started to really analyze why I really liked these and kept coming back to them. Identifying at least some of these things allowed me to cross-reference recordings in my head and zero in on the things that really effect me on an emotional level. Figuring out how to realize that goal in your (my) playing is a different story but there have been some great suggestions by guys far more qualified than I.

[Sam Sherry]

Zach --

I don't usually post twice but something you said struck me deeply. Unfortunately, it struck me the wrong way, but that's not your fault! Here goes.

Originally Posted by Zachmozach

Isn't jazz improv 101 basically about developing your own vocabulary through practice? There's a finite amount of notes we can play and practicing patterns and concepts of soloing can increase our vocabulary.

I understand that you're quickly, if probably inadvertently, changing the subject from developing a personal voice toward building vocabulary. But let's go into detail because it's essential to draw the distinction.

There are an INFINITE number of musical choices at any moment, limited only by your imagination and -- ready? -- your personal voice.

The "Jazz Improv 101" advice you've cited is almost exactly about how to not improvise. Most of us work to "develop vocabulary" at some point. The danger comes when people abuse "vocabulary" by taking it out of the practice room and yielding to the temptation to paste "vocabulary" into otherwise musical situations.

Working toward a personal voice is mainly about developing your ability to react in the moment to the music taking place around you. IT IS NEVER TOO EARLY TO BEGIN THIS PROCESS. Even if you are literally taking Jazz Improv 101 right now you can close your eyes (literally or metaphorically), open your ears and see where the people you are playing with help you to go. Because otherwise you're just 'playing with some record in your head,' as Ed Few says. And you're missing a golden opportunity to make music every time you do that.

Again, other folks around here are brighter people and better players than me and great teachers to boot; listen to all they say. But I'm saying, "Trust yourself."