Double Bass How many years did you study before jazz was consistently fun?

[Huy Nguyen]

I may not understand the word fun the way you do here. Hiking is fun to me. Getting closer to the nature for a couple of days, resting from the city noise breathing fresh air etc. but when you go up high in the mountain say there's no more fun. You have to be well prepared with all the equipment and techniques and it's still dangerous if you go all the way to the top with people dying every now and then. There is some valuable experience that you get from that and there's emotions and plenty of that too but I wouldn't call this fun at all. Then after you become more proficient some of these routes are no longer dangerous to you and they become more fun and may become even boring. That's what I think happens with me and the music. Playing music is very rewarding but after a lot of hours it just becomes less challenging and more fun to do. this goes for both technique and feeling, cause as you play more you also find new ways to express yourself.

I define Fun is anything that can be an enjoyable experience.

The climber analogy works cept when it doesn't work. I used to rock climb and backpack, and still backcountry ski from time to time. The comparison is limited. Mountain sports is about pushing your own limits, the challenge is the fun itself along other rewards (like adrenlaine rushes). Enduring harsh conditions is never fun, but for whatever reason you always look back on it with fondness and the reward is knowing that you survived through difficult times. It brings a different kind of rush. Climbers do easy routes because they want to just to mellow out and get outside and reconnect with nature or just have a good time. You can't compare that with the type of stuff people do cilmbing Annapurna or K2. They're different worlds. And one persons molehill is another person's Everest - it all depends on who you are. The former is about enjoyment, the latter is about suffering through a personal trial.

Practicing your scales is only a arduous chore because you let it. If your practice is devoid of creativity, it'll become dreary quickly. It seems to me many people aren't very creative about their practice habits and finding out new ways to approach things that works better for them.

Example:


The difference with music (at least with playing jazz), is that basic material can be recombined or repurposed with something else to make it challenging again.



You are only limited by what you allow yourself and what your creativity can come up with.

Finally, Hal Galper's video on practicing should be required viewing.

 

[Tom Lane]

Seems to me like too many people concentrate on all the intellectual growth around Jazz and forget that it was all about a feel and fun at the beginning. The minute I put away the theory books and just started grooving it all became clear. I got my epiphany after seeing Ray Brown live. Nothing higher than a Bb on the G string past the 1st octave, and nothing faster than a 16th note the whole night. Nothing too terribly complicated but he had every toe tapping and a smile on every face. GO for that magic, it is not in the head. It is in the heart.

I've transcribed an awful lot of Ray Brown's recordings and I think you've identified his genius. Ray knew how to use open strings and the physicality of the bass to make toe-tapping, melodic bass lines. In a way, he was a master of playing within his limitations. Me, I'm finding that I'm exactly the opposite; that no matter how hard I try, when I'm soloing I hear things beyond my ability. Until recently, that was a very consistent issue for me. At each stage messing up an otherwise solid performance with trying to play something beyond my abilities. With much better facility on the bass it's become much less of an issue. Everybody's different, but I realized that I'm the opposite from Ray; I can't discipline my ear to hear only what I can play. So, in my case, gaining facility proved easier than gaining self discipline. I love Ray's playing, but when I'm on, I play more like NHOP. Shifts disappear into pivots, I use my entire finger span, don't always use TP after the octave, TP below the octave; as long as my intonation and tone are happening, anything goes. I haven't been using my pinky alone yet, but I expect that it may come.
I don't think there's anything I can really do about it because that's just the way I am, but, if playing beyond my ability means that I have a healthy imagination rather than solid discipline... I'll take it.

 

[Tom Lane]

FWIW, I was given my 1st acoustic bass guitar at age 52, and took my 1st lesson 2 years later. I bought my double bass at age 56. I joined a Jazz trio a year & half ago, and the other 2 musicians were (are) much better players than I was (am). The 1st year was quite a struggle for me, but my bandmates were very patient. I really missed not having drums to lean on. As Chris wisely wrote: "fake it 'til you make it and then hope for the best"

Then after about a year, things really started clicking for me. Playing this music really has forced me to improve my chops, and now, I'm much more confident in providing the rhythmic base while the two soloists do their thing. As H-Diddy says, I'm learning to turn my mistakes into 'interesting' note choices in my walking bass lines.

I really don't care for most bass solos, and my soloing is virtually nonexistent, but I'm having lots of fun, and still am improving my chops weekly, if not daily. One of my focuses for the past few months is to improve my arco technique. I may not care for bass solos, but arco bass is another thing entirely. I'm starting to feel somewhat solid on the melody for 'Scotch & Soda', and would like to think that I rock the transcribed Louis Armstrong trumpet solo on 'Muskrat Ramble'. I'm now working on transcribing Satchmo's solo on 'Basin Street Blues'. I'm not sure if I'll ever have the aptitude for improvisation, but maybe if I live long enough..

So for me, it took about a year playing jazz before it was really fun, but I also was over 50…(I'm 59 now)

One of the profound lessons Lynn Seaton taught me - if you don't know who he is, you should look him up - when I was starting to solo arco was to imitate a phrase verbatim. You can sing it or transcribe it, both are good for different reasons, but the goal is to get the nuance into your arco playing. Dynamics, harshness, sweetness, stops, legato, etc. I found singers particularly helpful. It dramatically improved my arco playing so now, when I sing in my mind's ear while I solo, I realize a lot of it with the bow. I found it great advice and I love soloing arco so I'd thought I'd pass along this advice I found so helpful. Hopefully it'll be useful for you too.
Lynn sometimes sings his arco line as he plays it, and it is a bare knuckles crowd pleaser. I find that I distract myself if I sing out-loud while I play because my voice and my mind's ear don't always match and that takes me out of the moment, but that's my goal, to be able to do that consistently.

 

[Tom Lane]

I agree with the Sonny bit, but disagree that music can be hard labor. Music is a blessing. Having the ability and time to practice is a blessing and a priviledge, regardless of how challenging or difficult the material. I would much rather play a poopy no paying 4-hr gig with some terrible players than dig a ditch.

IMO, if you see a musical endeavor as hard labor, I think you've let that relationship to music happen that way. Ego usually ruins any experience pretty quickly. The inner critic excels at taking something that's supposed to be fun and turn it into torture.

This one was tough for me to respond to, but, I think I'm a bit of a prima-donna when I play. I don't do it for the money, so I only do it for some type of satisfaction/gratification and I've had gigs in which I would have welcomed death, literally.

One that comes to mind was with well-developed players who didn't call the tunes. They just started playing, and this is when I still, mostly, needed a chart to feel comfortable. Tunes I didn't know, key's I hadn't played, tempos I hadn't worked up to. Embarrassing isn't the right word. Humiliating is in the ballpark. I would have gladly dug the ditch. To make it worse, the BL comes up during the break and says he's not trying to "beat me up" and after a bit of discussion, hands me his set list scrawled on a napkin. I know 5 of the 25 tunes. 2nd set was possibly even worse as I constantly fumbled after the progression to mostly peddle the tonic and hit the turnaround 2 beats too late.

Thing is, I didn't like his 25 tunes which tended toward smooth jazz and soft-rock. If I had, I would have learned them and gone back.

Another instance was in my own band. My regular drummer and guitarist couldn't make the gig so I got subs. The drummer was not experienced so, inappropriate fills, late turnarounds, inappropriate grooves, off-time, unsteady beat, what-have-you, and the pianist, who was musically sophisticated, but would just throw up his hands when he got lost for half a chorus. There was one tune that had a m7b5 chord and while I hit and eventually emphasized the b5, he played a minor-7th throughout. I knew what I was in for during the 2nd song but I only hung in because I didn't want to be mean to these guys. For me, it was torture and again, if I had had a heart attack during the break, I would have considered it a mixed blessing.

Last one, early in my playing out, I subbed for another bassist who was the BL and couldn't make the trio gig. Most of the tunes they called I didn't know. Some of them, not at all. And so I got lost a lot. I'd hear that I was playing the bridge when I should have been on the A-section and vice versa and rush to try to adapt, but, again, always playing catch up and rarely where I should have been. The guitarist, who was very experienced and knew that I was completely lost, never once tried to help me to the form. He preferred to just let me flounder and ruin the tune rather than say "top". I shouldn't have taken the gig given my level but the other players could have made it much better for everyone with a little effort. I still don't play with that guitarist even though now we travel in the same circles because I think he's an ass, putting his ego ahead of the music.

I have others, but you get the idea. I love music and love to play, and I'm okay playing with a group of students if I'm a TA and my purpose to help them, but I suffer bad players, badly. And ego-driven players even worse.

Where's the shovel? How deep?

 

[Tom Lane]

I think one should differentiate between "music" and "instrument". While music ist always a pleasure to play or to listen, practicing on the instrument can be hard labour sometime!

I think this is right on. If you're goal is to get some set of scales or a tune up to a specified tempo, it can be very boring practicing that every day for a month or 3 months, 5 bpm faster until you get there consistently and can just whip that sucker out with a moment's notice and it's drudgery. And, IMO, it's worth it for the freedom it provides on the instrument in most cases.

 

[Huy Nguyen]

Tom, I feel you in pretty much all your 3 above replies. All those bad gig experiences, I think that's just part of paying your dues and getting called out on your weaknesses. Best thing to remember is to take stock, learn from your mistakes and keep a tough hide. When I look back, even those bad gigs were like getting lessons. I don't revel in them but I do appreciate the experiences.

About the Ray Brown thing and playing what you hear; I'm like you in that way - the musical imagination didn't need shedding to get going and it's kinda NHOP-like. I'm a recovering guitarist after all.

I gotta say that transcribing my own lines, coming up with my own compositions, that stuff really set me free. That was the most rewarding discovery I found for myself out of all else I've tried. Now I chase down what I hear and try to play it as if it was off a famous recording. If I can't play what I hear, then I use the same lessons and tricks teachers use to improve until I have that facility. Slowing down and nailing exactly what you intended by ear is easier said than done. Accuracy is difficult and it's hard to avoid resorting to some theoretical scale or to noodle when things start to fall apart.

If you already have a voice that resonates to you as to what you should be playing, I think it'd be foolish not to heed it. If your inner voice is speaking to you, shouldn't you be holding on and allow it take you where ever it wants to go? It's certainly what I'd prefer to hear from players rather than regurgitating something they learned from <insert name here>. Don't we all want to be nurturing and developing our own imaginations? IMO, there's no better way to find an original voice.

 

[thmsjordan]

Just a thought here. Those of you who know me, know that I am an acupuncturist, and I practice Japanese Meridian therapy. This has led to a healthy respect for Japanese thought on my part. A great 17th. C. poet named Matsuo Basho when asked how one could write Haiku as masterful as his, replied that one should not seek to emulate the works of a master. Rather, he said that one should seek what those masters sought within themselves.

Seems like it has some application here. Not dissing emulation as part of the learning process, but it seems like Seeking ones own inner voice is a process worth doing.

 

[thandy]

Played bass guitar when I was young playing mostly rock but mostly played symphonic music on clarinet. Did the whole instrumental major thing in college. Always wanted to play jazz since it was my fav music but never had the chance on reeds. When I turned around 50 I decided, the hell with it. Never too old you know? Borrowed an old Kay from a buddy and was lucky enough to hook up with a group of great musicians. I quickly found out that #1. Jazz was the hardest genre that I had ever played, at least for me, #2, except for bass clef, it was a total different instrument than BG, and #3, boy did I suck. But my band mates were incredibly patient and I got better pretty quick. Why? Cause I had fun immediately. I took some lessons, worked hard, and...still suck sometimes, but
most times I don't, and sometimes even surprise myself in how far I have come. Hate to say it cause I know it's a silly cliche, but life and music IS the journey, not the destination. When the groove is there I AM Ray Brown, at least in my own mind. Now I have to go work on my triplets...

 

[Tom Lane]

Just a thought here. Those of you who know me, know that I am an acupuncturist, and I practice Japanese Meridian therapy. This has led to a healthy respect for Japanese thought on my part. A great 17th. C. poet named Matsuo Basho when asked how one could write Haiku as masterful as his, replied that one should not seek to emulate the works of a master. Rather, he said that one should seek what those masters sought within themselves.

Seems like it has some application here. Not dissing emulation as part of the learning process, but it seems like Seeking ones own inner voice is a process worth doing.

That's a great thought, thanks thmsjordan. After considering this a bit more, what I'm really saying is that there are expectations and basic competency. I can be as patient as a Kindergarten teacher with folks who admit that they're amateurs and my role is to help coach them, but, I draw the line at drummers who can't keep time, don't listen, and claim that they're competent drummers. I've worked with of few of them over the years and when they clearly have good chops and present themselves as competent drummers but can't keep a beat... dropping beats, rushing, dragging, missing turnarounds, etc, then I want to look for that shovel again. When I was particularly incompetent, I made up for it by being over-prepared, asking for the setlist and keys, charts if they were arrangements, anything I could do to play well.

And of course, right after I posted that I don't have the self-discipline to play within my ability I read this from John Goldsby:

"Great players play within the boundaries of their technique. Extraordinary technicians have practiced to be extraordinary. These players are fearless in their approach to playing a musical line in spite of the difficulties of the instrument. To improvise effectively in the thumb position, a bassist must listen, adjust, and play onward all at the same time. Of course, this is also true when improvising in the lower positions, but in the thumb position the pitfalls are more treacherous."

Of course, John is right. Back to the shed.

 

[Chris Fitzgerald]

Yes, John tends to be right more often than not. We don't call him GOLDSBY WAN KENOBI for nothing.

Playing within your ability is an art that requires honesty more than anything. Some people overrate their ability, and others underrate it. Most of us have done both of these things at one time or another. In my own experience, I find playing within my ability easier when I approach the thing with the attitude of the "killing zone" (flash back to jazz robots, everyone!). When you have a certain level of technical control, you can play on the front edge of it, and that can be exhilarating; it's also perilous because you are just one small misstep from disaster. Sometimes that's a good thing. But there's a beautiful place just a small distance away from the edge where you have enough control to not only execute what you're playing, but to actually slay it by playing it with absolute conviction and joy. I think of this as being on the "edge of the edge", and it's my favorite place to be. The main reason I feel this way is that it inspires confidence: when you're on, you're totally on, controlling every nuance of what you're doing with complete authority while still taking some chances. When some of those chances don't work out, you resort to being only ordinary (for you) instead of falling 400 feet to your musical death on the rocks below. From "momentarily ordinary" it's a pretty simple thing to get back on track and start going for things again.

And as Tom points out, lots of honest shed time is the only way to move this boundary little by little.

 

[Tom Lane]

Yes, John tends to be right more often than not. We don't call him GOLDSBY WAN KENOBI for nothing.

Playing within your ability is an art that requires honesty more than anything. Some people overrate their ability, and others underrate it. Most of us have done both of these things at one time or another. In my own experience, I find playing within my ability easier when I approach the thing with the attitude of the "killing zone" (flash back to jazz robots, everyone!). When you have a certain level of technical control, you can play on the front edge of it, and that can be exhilarating; it's also perilous because you are just one small misstep from disaster. Sometimes that's a good thing. But there's a beautiful place just a small distance away from the edge where you have enough control to not only execute what you're playing, but to actually slay it by playing it with absolute conviction and joy. I think of this as being on the "edge of the edge", and it's my favorite place to be. The main reason I feel this way is that it inspires confidence: when you're on, you're totally on, controlling every nuance of what you're doing with complete authority while still taking some chances. When some of those chances don't work out, you resort to being only ordinary (for you) instead of falling 400 feet to your musical death on the rocks below. From "momentarily ordinary" it's a pretty simple thing to get back on track and start going for things again.

And as Tom points out, lots of honest shed time is the only way to move this boundary little by little.

Thanks Chris, maybe we shouldn't tell John though; we don't want it to go to his head. He'll start thinking he's some master player instead of... well, okay, he is a master player so I have no idea where that was going. It's heartening to hear that, at least for some accomplished players, progress is made slowly and not over a few week's time. As Huy points out, jazz is the most fun when it is perilous and there's no net. Get your free adrenaline courtesy your local jazzer?

 

[old spice]

After 42 years it's not consisently fun for me...
I can't imagine how it could be.

 

[Huy Nguyen]

I find playing within my ability easier when I approach the thing with the attitude of the "killing zone" (flash back to jazz robots, everyone!). When you have a certain level of technical control, you can play on the front edge of it, and that can be exhilarating; it's also perilous because you are just one small misstep from disaster. Sometimes that's a good thing. But there's a beautiful place just a small distance away from the edge where you have enough control to not only execute what you're playing, but to actually slay it by playing it with absolute conviction and joy. I think of this as being on the "edge of the edge", and it's my favorite place to be. The main reason I feel this way is that it inspires confidence: when you're on, you're totally on, controlling every nuance of what you're doing with complete authority while still taking some chances. When some of those chances don't work out, you resort to being only ordinary (for you) instead of falling 400 feet to your musical death on the rocks below. From "momentarily ordinary" it's a pretty simple thing to get back on track and start going for things again.

And as Tom points out, lots of honest shed time is the only way to move this boundary little by little.

I love being on the edge of the edge. I don't tend to stay that long but usually the view from there is awe-inspiring. I think of it like meditation: a master may be able spend 4-5 hours in a state of total awareness while a lay person can only manage 4-5 seconds at a time if they're lucky. The quality of the experience is the same, it's just that the frequency/duration is a lot less consistent.

The one thing I've found about the "edge of the edge" is that it's full of surprises. There's the aspect of "total ability" where it's a flow state and things slow down. But then there's this other thing that happens that I'm totally in enthralled by - a state in which the self disappears, you're no longer in your own way but you've also surrendered yourself to the experience that's unfolding right before your eyes. And you know it because the band, as a total, sounds bigger than the sum of it's parts. It's starts to go places that no single person by themselves could normally muster. IMO, this is what's great about playing with others and to some extent it can be achieved with those people who lose a beat, drag, get lost on the form, etc. For this to happen it's also that bit I was talking about on the "How do I practice with a duo thread" - that you have to be will to give your ego up to the music. It's usually in this state that I surprise myself, come up with things I never knew I could do or place tasteful quotes mid solo for phrases I've never practiced. To me, this is the state that Sonny Rollins has talked about in his youtubes of late: that it's a state where we're playing with our total being and the subconscious has taken over. We're playing as a fully integrated person and everything works like a tip-top racecar.

I will posit, however, that it doesn't have to improve bit by bit. I've found with my duo sessions that you can start moving that boundary a little faster if you:
1) Are completely honest about what you're playing and what you're hearing
2) Free yourself from all the boundaries and rules that the idiom has imposed.
#2 flies directly in the fact of practicing hard in the shed. Rather it's more about having a different perspective while playing and letting go of the inner critic more and more. As my sensei says, "Easy on the I".

I re-watched on of Hal Galper's videos (the one on "Attitude is Everything") tonight was reminded me again of intentionally making mistakes. In my duos, the thing of playing things intentionally wrong was extremely liberating. Take some time wandering out in the world of "getting lost" and "losing beats". In the last couple years, as a player, I found it more enjoyable working through other peoples mistakes than to actually play the tune correctly but always "painting between the lines". I'd rather play with someone who shags up a lot but takes chances than someone who has no imagination and can only play a tune one way. To that extent, playing notes correctly matters less than playing things wrong but be successful in leading the audience on a journey. Even in hindsight, it may sound like poopie but if it captivated everyone, its an overwhelming success. I'm very much a believer in what Hal describes his solos as "a series of happy accidents". It's all about jumping headfirst into the world of being a "fool".

 

[brianrost]

Jamey Aebersold is famous for saying that playing jazz didn't become fun for him until he turned 50.

That's when he was able to give up transcribing and recording play-alongs for the world

I always have fun playing jazz even though I totally suck at it (weak ears).

 

[Chris Fitzgerald]

Huy - I think I've mentioned this before, but that Galper video was shot here in Louisville on my iPad. I'd been listening to the beginning of what he was saying and knew that some deep poopie was on the way and that it should be saved and shared somehow, so I grabbed the closest thing.

I agree with just about everything you've said. Two things i will comment on:
1) In my case, honesty (like technique) is always a "little by little" proposition in terms of the door opening; I can't remember a time for either when it went from being shut to throw open wide quickly. There may be flashes of understanding, but as a state of being it's a slow and steady process....at least in my case. The Tortoise wins the race while the Hare burns out.
2) Freedom from boundaries is wonderful advice, but in my case I have to distinguish between my own personal boundaries and my responsibilities toward the other people I'm playing with. More and more I'm coming to see my role in any musical relationship as only existing in relation to the other player or players. I have my boundaries and comfort zone and getting outside of them can be a great thing to do when the time is right. At the same time, the people I play with all have their boundaries and comfort zones, and as a person in a relationship with them I have to understand this if I'm going to help the music reach its highest level and vice versa. In the end, we're all enablers of the people we play with and we have to be careful to remember that when we're exploring a new idea of our own it doesn't exist in a vacuum but also affects the other players every moment. With some players I can do almost anything because they'll understand what I'm doing and roll with it. With others I know that if I chase something that is interesting to me it might shag them all up and end up hurting the music because I knocked someone off balance. It's a wonderfully delicate mechanism.

 

[pnchad]

there is no joy like being in the moment trading improvised ideas with others - it's a drug, once experienced never forgotten and constantly strived for

I was lucky to play with WAY better players at an early stage and felt those 'moments' of joy when things just seemed magical

I think what JA was saying about starting to 'have fun' after many years study is having enough vocabulary internalized to freely play without concious thought getting in the way

 

[Emoody]

I think what JA was saying about starting to 'have fun' after many years study is having enough vocabulary internalized to freely play without concious thought getting in the way

Yes, that was my thought too!

 

[Huy Nguyen]

Yeah I think I vaguely remember that you recorded that vid. I posted it to mainly direct it toward Tom. That was definitely some deep poopie.

I agree with just about everything you've said. Two things i will comment on:
1) In my case, honesty (like technique) is always a "little by little" proposition in terms of the door opening; I can't remember a time for either when it went from being shut to throw open wide quickly. There may be flashes of understanding, but as a state of being it's a slow and steady process....at least in my case. The Tortoise wins the race while the Hare burns out.

Agreed mostly. You still need basic facility to even play. No contest there. Once the facility is there tho, I think there might be more efficient ways to try things.

So here's what I've discovered but not through music, but through sports and martial arts. The key is that body/mind relationship has an incredible ability to self-organize, self-correct, and self-teach if given the chance and room to do so. It takes a shift in perspective where you stop putting judgement on it and see it for what it is. If we end up trying to analyze what we're playing in real-time (what Hal's saying in the vid), it takes out out of the experience and we're no longer present, we're no longer "here". However, as we know, the inner critic can be employed to serve our purposes, just as Hal describes.

So I came with an attempt at an exercise at Creative Mistake Making to make it a learning process:
1) Take any tune and start soloing over it. Doesn't matter if you hear the lines you're playing in your head or not (hopefully you are).
2) As you go mid solo, stop immediately right after any phrase you've played that you can identify that has a lack of clairity. Meaning, some notes not so clear, some you screwed up on the intonation, something like that where something went wrong. Ideally this is a very short phrase, maybe like 1 or at most 2 bars long.
3) Repeat the phrase (bad notes and all) a couples.
4) Begin to slowly (and deliberately!) tweak that phrase so that it sounds right to your ear. I've found most times this is just a slight shift in timing, outside of any intonation errors. Repeat the tweaking several times til what sounds obtuse is now in line with the solo.
5) Then comes the important part: take the same phrase and start to manipulate it. Go beyond just playing it correctly but also mutate it so that you have multiple musical versions of the same phrase. It's like finding alternate paths for the original phrase.
6) So by now you've probably played the original "failed" phrase a few times. It's no longer weird but you also have explored other options that could have been taken. Solo over the piece and go back to #1.

I've done this is a duo session and using the above, my partner was starting to longer and more connected phrases after a short while (maybe 30 minutes?). Seems like the critic will eventually become quiet meanwhile I'm able to keep tearing out multiple phrases. The overall key is that the "bulkhead door" must be closed. You can't attempt to analyze what you're playing or come from an analysis perspective. If anything it's either that you like or dislike a phrase. The focus is on allow the body to self-correct whatever you come up with. If you blaze past all your missed intents and errors, nothing changes or improves.

The main intent is to practice a "performing mentality", not a "practice mentality". To strengthen the mind/body connection and play almost anything the mind comes up with freely.

I've been doing this for a short while now and just as it is to solo, it becomes like training a muscle and conditioning to allow the body play just about anything and being able to self correct. There are still times when you have a lapse of intent and it falls apart but it seems to be less frequent.

 

[pnchad]

I love being on the edge of the edge. I don't tend to stay that long but usually the view from there is awe-inspiring. I think of it like meditation: a master may be able spend 4-5 hours in a state of total awareness while a lay person can only manage 4-5 seconds at a time if they're lucky. The quality of the experience is the same, it's just that the frequency/duration is a lot less consistent.

The one thing I've found about the "edge of the edge" is that it's full of surprises. There's the aspect of "total ability" where it's a flow state and things slow down. But then there's this other thing that happens that I'm totally in enthralled by - a state in which the self disappears, you're no longer in your own way but you've also surrendered yourself to the experience that's unfolding right before your eyes. And you know it because the band, as a total, sounds bigger than the sum of it's parts. It's starts to go places that no single person by themselves could normally muster. IMO, this is what's great about playing with others and to some extent it can be achieved with those people who lose a beat, drag, get lost on the form, etc. For this to happen it's also that bit I was talking about on the "How do I practice with a duo thread" - that you have to be will to give your ego up to the music. It's usually in this state that I surprise myself, come up with things I never knew I could do or place tasteful quotes mid solo for phrases I've never practiced. To me, this is the state that Sonny Rollins has talked about in his youtubes of late: that it's a state where we're playing with our total being and the subconscious has taken over. We're playing as a fully integrated person and everything works like a tip-top racecar.

I will posit, however, that it doesn't have to improve bit by bit. I've found with my duo sessions that you can start moving that boundary a little faster if you:
1) Are completely honest about what you're playing and what you're hearing
2) Free yourself from all the boundaries and rules that the idiom has imposed.
#2 flies directly in the fact of practicing hard in the shed. Rather it's more about having a different perspective while playing and letting go of the inner critic more and more. As my sensei says, "Easy on the I".

I re-watched on of Hal Galper's videos (the one on "Attitude is Everything") tonight was reminded me again of intentionally making mistakes. In my duos, the thing of playing things intentionally wrong was extremely liberating. Take some time wandering out in the world of "getting lost" and "losing beats". In the last couple years, as a player, I found it more enjoyable working through other peoples mistakes than to actually play the tune correctly but always "painting between the lines". I'd rather play with someone who ****s up a lot but takes chances than someone who has no imagination and can only play a tune one way. To that extent, playing notes correctly matters less than playing things wrong but be successful in leading the audience on a journey. Even in hindsight, it may sound like poopie but if it captivated everyone, its an overwhelming success. I'm very much a believer in what Hal describes his solos as "a series of happy accidents". It's all about jumping headfirst into the world of being a "fool".

I still remember where I was the first time I came to that place, 15 or 20 minutes into the tune I realized I was not controlling my fingers directly and that my eyes had been closed for some time - the band was collectively killing - it was truly an 'out of body' thing. That was 35 yrs ago and I still get chills. That's fun.

 

[Tom Lane]

I had no idea this would become such an interesting discussion. Thanks again to everyone who has provided such thoughtful commentary.

One of themes of these type of discussions is how much there really is to becoming a well-developed player, and at different stages, different tactics are appropriate. I'd add that the genre is important too, but this is the jazz forum, so that's clearly the slice we're addressing.

One of things about Hal's video that he doesn't say, but implies, is well-developed skill. He said you should have internalized the tune so well that you don't need to conscientiously think about it. IME, that can only happen if you've done your homework and developed a certain level of musicianship to be able to hear the tune in your mind's ear and be able to play another line at the same time. He also didn't say it, but there are mistakes and then there are mistakes. The types he was talking about were, I'm guessing, things like picking an unexpected note and having a phrase go someplace surprising or carrying a chord a measure longer than the form, or playing a half-measure off from the harmony. He wasn't talking about bad intonation, poor tone, or vague rhythm. And then, there's the point Chris brought up, that in a band we all have an obligation to be supportive of the other players. That doesn't mean that we can't sometimes be aggressively or passively challenging but it has to be at an appropriate time and we need to know when to back off if we're confusing everyone else too much.

I do think practicing making mistakes is a good practice technique and is a good way to learn to recover from being distracted or when the pianist mis-remembers and forgets 4 measures of the tune every chorus. And I do still stop myself when my soloing becomes vague and hone in on what I was really hearing because it's a great way to expand my vocabulary.

As for what Jamey means by his statement, I've got no idea. I'll ask him next time I see him and he's moving slowly enough for me to get a question in.

A friend sent me this quote last night:

"Limitation is the condition of our lives. What matters — what allows us to reach beyond ourselves, as we are, and push at the boundaries of our ability — is that we continue. But then everything depends on how we practice, what we practice." - Glenn Kurtz