I was delighted with my random shelf pick this week! Saxophone extraordinaire, native of Paducah, KY, icon of the "Nashville sound": Homer Louis "Boots" Randolph III. (I researched the "Nashville sound" and it refers more to an era-late 1950s to 1960s-and style of music than an actual sound, but the impression that I get is that it is a sort of country/pop music blend with a touch of Dixieland jazz and a generous dash of honky-tonk swing.)
Boots' most famous tune is Yakety Sax, a catchy little tune that he wrote with James Q. "Spider" Rich. The song is original material, with blends of fiddle reels woven in. It's sometimes referred to as "The Benny Hill Song," because it was popularly used by the Benny Hill show during funny chase scenes. It was the success of Yakety Sax, actually, that took Boots "out of the hills of Kentucky and put me in the hills of Tennessee" (to use his words). It's also one of the first solo sax tunes that really captivated me as a young Music Zombie. I managed to track down the sheet music in high school and performed it for a talent show. I played it well enough, and I'm sure that I can play it better now, but I will have to work on it a bit more to make it sound anywhere close to Boots' version.
Boots learned a variety of instruments as a kid before settling on the tenor saxophone at age 16. He went on to play with the U. S. Army Band until 1946, after which he decided to put his playing to professional use. He was the first ever saxophonist to play on an Elvis Presley record, and the only saxist to solo with him. He enjoyed a busy career as soloist and session musician in Nashville (and all over the country), then decided to open his own dinner club in 1977. It ran for a successful 17 years.
The disc I pulled off the shelf is another cheap reproduction, opening with Boots' Yakety Sax, but also includes some nice renditions of King of the Road, Stardust, Smoke Gets in Your Eyes, and a charming two-beat tune called Mountain Minuet. He really could make the horn sing.
Showing posts with label burrito. Show all posts
Showing posts with label burrito. Show all posts
Friday, July 20, 2012
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Anyone can improvise
Last weekend I attended the 2-day Jamey Aebersold Jazz Improvisation Workshop held at the University of Louisville in Kentucky. This workshop is taught by Jamey Aebersold himself, which I think is great. If you've ever used any of his play-along CDs (or LPs, if you've used them for a very long time) you've heard his voice, counting off the tempo.
I must say, he's a monster of a musician, demonstrating his points beautifully on both piano and saxophone. The first morning session didn't have much in the way of theoretical information, but it did serve to get everyone into the "be creative" mindset. As a teacher, I was interested in ways of introducing improvisation to some of my students, and the first day afternoon session gave me some helpful tips. For example, instead of having the student try to solo over a progression, have them try over just two or three chords, using only two or three scales. This keeps the amount of intimidating choices down to a manageable number and allows the player to experiment with actually trying to make up a melody on the spot.
Day 2 dealt more with some theoretical aspects of jazz music, like ii-V7-I progressions, scale usage, and ear training.
He did address the interesting question of whether or not analyzing or talking about jazz diminishes its spontaneity. To paraphrase Aebersold: The greats may have not known whether or not they were playing diminished scales or tritone substitutions, or even if they played them intentionally (some did, Coltrane and Miles Davis were known to use modes and scales in experimental ways) but that's what they were doing. And it's interesting how much you can learn about soloing by analyzing a solo from one of the great players. We looked at couple of transcriptions, one from a Jimmy Forrest solo and one from Sonny Stitt. By comparing note choices to the chord symbols, it's possible to see how they followed the progression. It's really illuminating to see how a great soloist builds their melodies.
Some other interesting points:
Overall, it was a useful two days. I picked up some new ideas to try with my students and new ways of practicing and developing my own playing. Maybe in a year or two I can return for one of the week-long sessions to learn more.
I must say, he's a monster of a musician, demonstrating his points beautifully on both piano and saxophone. The first morning session didn't have much in the way of theoretical information, but it did serve to get everyone into the "be creative" mindset. As a teacher, I was interested in ways of introducing improvisation to some of my students, and the first day afternoon session gave me some helpful tips. For example, instead of having the student try to solo over a progression, have them try over just two or three chords, using only two or three scales. This keeps the amount of intimidating choices down to a manageable number and allows the player to experiment with actually trying to make up a melody on the spot.
Day 2 dealt more with some theoretical aspects of jazz music, like ii-V7-I progressions, scale usage, and ear training.
He did address the interesting question of whether or not analyzing or talking about jazz diminishes its spontaneity. To paraphrase Aebersold: The greats may have not known whether or not they were playing diminished scales or tritone substitutions, or even if they played them intentionally (some did, Coltrane and Miles Davis were known to use modes and scales in experimental ways) but that's what they were doing. And it's interesting how much you can learn about soloing by analyzing a solo from one of the great players. We looked at couple of transcriptions, one from a Jimmy Forrest solo and one from Sonny Stitt. By comparing note choices to the chord symbols, it's possible to see how they followed the progression. It's really illuminating to see how a great soloist builds their melodies.
Some other interesting points:
- Rhythm is at least as important as the correct notes.
- Imagination provides FREEDOM. Develop your creativity.
- Music doesn't care who plays it.
- TV kills imagination.
- LISTEN! All of the answers are in the recordings.
- Charlie Parker practiced 11-15 hours every day for 3-4 years.
- Get some music in your head (and in your fingers). Don't rely too heavily on books and written music.
- Use your ears and memory.
- Try first improvising by singing. Your voice can go places you may not be able to easily find with your instrument, and it helps to get ideas moving.
Overall, it was a useful two days. I picked up some new ideas to try with my students and new ways of practicing and developing my own playing. Maybe in a year or two I can return for one of the week-long sessions to learn more.
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| After the final session, Jamey was so kind as to autograph my book! |
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Blue moon of Kentucky
Getting psyched for my impending Kentucky trip. I will be attending the 2-day Jamey Aebersold Improvisation seminar at the University of Louisville. This will be my first road trip South (well, if you don't count the trip to Florida that I took with my high school band. Riding in a charter bus for 22 hours doesn't really count as a road trip for me.)
In preparation for my trip, I've looked into some well-known musicians from the state of Kentucky. It's no surprise that many country, Christian, and gospel singers hail from Kentucky: Steven Curtis Chapman, Achy Breaky Hearted Billy Ray Cyrus, Loretta Lynn (the coal miner's daughter), Naomi Judd, Wynonna Judd, and Ricky Scaggs. Kentucky is home to a rich history of folk and country music, and it's just a hop and a skip away from another major music hub: Nashville, TN. From Rosine, KY comes "The Father of Bluegrass Music" Bill Monroe. According to his website, he invented, labelled, and propelled bluegrass style into modern America. Through the inception of his band, the Blue Grass Boys, he defined the bluegrass tradition with close harmonies, instrumental virtuosity, and driving tempos.
In Monroe's own words: "To me, bluegrass is really THE country music. It was meant for country people." With that quote, it's easy to wander off into the murky depths of country and folk music history, in an attempt to come up with an intellectual definition of "country" music. [Here we go, down the rabbit hole.] What is country music? As opposed to pop music? Or blues? How is modern country music different from modern pop music (leaving out hip-hop for the moment)? Same instruments, some of them even electrified. Same themes in lyrics, same chord progressions. All that's different is style and a bit of twang. Throw in a lap steel guitar, a twangy voice and a violin solo and any tune can become a country tune. Or is it really that easy? Probably not.
The difference comes from the history, I think. The tradition that has been passed down from one musician to the next. In some parts of the country, folk musicians took a turn onto the path of blues and then ragtime and then, eventually, Tin Pan Alley. Jazz musicians rely on traditions too, but are usually trying to break out them; constantly moving towards new sounds. In other parts of the country, like in the South, the music and musicians retained that unique identity. Of course it evolved, but it stayed closer to its roots. Therefore, Bluegrass is country music with lots of caffeine.
That's the way I see it, anyway.
A bluegrass band is traditionally a small string orchestra, with guitars, banjos, perhaps a mandolin, a violin or two, and a bass to keep it all grounded. Like jazz, it is a uniquely American art-form. Also, like jazz, there is an element of improvisation: band members will trade blazing solos over choruses of folk tunes. Rounding the corner, to make the full circle, jazz vibraphonist Lionel Hampton was born in Louisville, though he considered Birmingham, Alabama is home. And, how could I leave out Boots Randolph, saxophonist extraordinaire (Yakety Sax). He was born in Paducah, and was part of the "Nashville sound" for most of his career.
Now I know what music to pack for the drive.
In preparation for my trip, I've looked into some well-known musicians from the state of Kentucky. It's no surprise that many country, Christian, and gospel singers hail from Kentucky: Steven Curtis Chapman, Achy Breaky Hearted Billy Ray Cyrus, Loretta Lynn (the coal miner's daughter), Naomi Judd, Wynonna Judd, and Ricky Scaggs. Kentucky is home to a rich history of folk and country music, and it's just a hop and a skip away from another major music hub: Nashville, TN. From Rosine, KY comes "The Father of Bluegrass Music" Bill Monroe. According to his website, he invented, labelled, and propelled bluegrass style into modern America. Through the inception of his band, the Blue Grass Boys, he defined the bluegrass tradition with close harmonies, instrumental virtuosity, and driving tempos.
In Monroe's own words: "To me, bluegrass is really THE country music. It was meant for country people." With that quote, it's easy to wander off into the murky depths of country and folk music history, in an attempt to come up with an intellectual definition of "country" music. [Here we go, down the rabbit hole.] What is country music? As opposed to pop music? Or blues? How is modern country music different from modern pop music (leaving out hip-hop for the moment)? Same instruments, some of them even electrified. Same themes in lyrics, same chord progressions. All that's different is style and a bit of twang. Throw in a lap steel guitar, a twangy voice and a violin solo and any tune can become a country tune. Or is it really that easy? Probably not.
The difference comes from the history, I think. The tradition that has been passed down from one musician to the next. In some parts of the country, folk musicians took a turn onto the path of blues and then ragtime and then, eventually, Tin Pan Alley. Jazz musicians rely on traditions too, but are usually trying to break out them; constantly moving towards new sounds. In other parts of the country, like in the South, the music and musicians retained that unique identity. Of course it evolved, but it stayed closer to its roots. Therefore, Bluegrass is country music with lots of caffeine.
That's the way I see it, anyway.
A bluegrass band is traditionally a small string orchestra, with guitars, banjos, perhaps a mandolin, a violin or two, and a bass to keep it all grounded. Like jazz, it is a uniquely American art-form. Also, like jazz, there is an element of improvisation: band members will trade blazing solos over choruses of folk tunes. Rounding the corner, to make the full circle, jazz vibraphonist Lionel Hampton was born in Louisville, though he considered Birmingham, Alabama is home. And, how could I leave out Boots Randolph, saxophonist extraordinaire (Yakety Sax). He was born in Paducah, and was part of the "Nashville sound" for most of his career.
Now I know what music to pack for the drive.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
The Aulochrome
There is a new instrument amidst the woodwinds. Its creator is Belgian instrument maker Francois Louis, and the instrument is called an "aulochrome," from the Greek, aulos (an ancient Greek instrument) and chrome (many colours). It was designed recently, and made its debut in 2002, with a performance by saxophonist Fabrizio Cassol.
It kind of looks like two soprano saxophones smushed together. From listening to demonstrations on You Tube, I think it kind of sounds like soprano saxophones smushed together, too. There is a slight mis-tuning between the components, done intentionally, that creates beats. The player can manipulate the beats to create rhythms. Looking at the key diagrams of this new beast is a bit mind-boggling. From what I can tell, the right and left hand mechanisms are split between the two bodies. There are two mouthpieces, and, I'm assuming, two reeds.
Joe Lovano has done a lot to help promote the new horn, giving demonstrations and concerts.
It kind of looks like two soprano saxophones smushed together. From listening to demonstrations on You Tube, I think it kind of sounds like soprano saxophones smushed together, too. There is a slight mis-tuning between the components, done intentionally, that creates beats. The player can manipulate the beats to create rhythms. Looking at the key diagrams of this new beast is a bit mind-boggling. From what I can tell, the right and left hand mechanisms are split between the two bodies. There are two mouthpieces, and, I'm assuming, two reeds.
Joe Lovano has done a lot to help promote the new horn, giving demonstrations and concerts.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
The Enigma Burrito Part 2
The last time we talked about Artie Shaw, he had finally topped Benny Goodman in the polls. Or at least was even with him.
Artie and his orchestra was still popular, don't get me wrong, but when compared to how Benny handled the music side, he made some unusual choices. He always seemed to be intent on getting strings (violins, etc) into his jazz bands. He was definitely interested in making his band sound different from any other jazz group and tried to incorporate more kinds of music than any other. Latin, Mexican, novelty, "savage" (not sure how else to describe this one, I think he was trying to get an African sound, even if it was hopelessly caricatured), and romantic strings. But he could swing, so it's unfortunate that he spent so much time trying to fight the popular band arrangement of the time.
He reassembled and reformed at least 8 different bands over the course of 4-5 years, which makes it clear that he was trying to do something, but wasn't able to achieve it. At least not to his satisfaction. It was this stop and start (and maybe his underlying distaste for fame and popularity) that ultimately undermined his attempt to surpass Benny.
In 1955 he gave it all up. Bandleading, clarinet, music, the fame, everything. He wanted to be a writer instead.
Artie was good at the clarinet. In some ways he may have been better than Benny, (I've been debating this over and over with myself. Who was the better player, really? I think I've decided that Benny was technically superior, but Artie knew how to play lyrically and took more musical risks) but Benny had a clearer idea about what he wanted to do and was better able to make it happen.
He is an enigma burrito. Con queso.
Artie and his orchestra was still popular, don't get me wrong, but when compared to how Benny handled the music side, he made some unusual choices. He always seemed to be intent on getting strings (violins, etc) into his jazz bands. He was definitely interested in making his band sound different from any other jazz group and tried to incorporate more kinds of music than any other. Latin, Mexican, novelty, "savage" (not sure how else to describe this one, I think he was trying to get an African sound, even if it was hopelessly caricatured), and romantic strings. But he could swing, so it's unfortunate that he spent so much time trying to fight the popular band arrangement of the time.
He reassembled and reformed at least 8 different bands over the course of 4-5 years, which makes it clear that he was trying to do something, but wasn't able to achieve it. At least not to his satisfaction. It was this stop and start (and maybe his underlying distaste for fame and popularity) that ultimately undermined his attempt to surpass Benny.
In 1955 he gave it all up. Bandleading, clarinet, music, the fame, everything. He wanted to be a writer instead.
Artie was good at the clarinet. In some ways he may have been better than Benny, (I've been debating this over and over with myself. Who was the better player, really? I think I've decided that Benny was technically superior, but Artie knew how to play lyrically and took more musical risks) but Benny had a clearer idea about what he wanted to do and was better able to make it happen.
He is an enigma burrito. Con queso.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
The Enigma Burrito Part 1
For my research paper, I've been studying the life and times of three great clarinetist bandleaders. Among them (Benny Goodman, Artie Shaw, and Woody Herman) Artie has been the most intriguing. This isn't because the other two are lesser musicians or made inferior music, or even that their lives were less interesting (all three were fantastic musicians who had real success, and created lasting legacies.) Shaw is interesting because I can't figure him out.
I'm halfway through his autobiography, The Trouble With Cinderella. He was a smart man. I mean this in the intellectual sense. His thought process was well-defined and philosophical, and he had made a commitment to learning.
What I've been after since I started reading about him is: Why did this saxophone player suddenly decide to become one of America's greatest clarinet players? He was, in the beginning of his playing career, hired for his saxophone skills, and was, at best, a mediocre clarinetist.
Finally, I picked up a copy of Gunther Schuller's excellent book The Swing Era and was happy to find that Schuller was wondering the exact same thing. In fact, one of the first things Schuller has to say about Shaw is how odd it was that Shaw made the decision to bring his clarinet playing skills up to par with his rival Benny Goodman. (Turns out he practiced like a mad man in order to bring his clarinet skills up to par, but it still isn't completely clear to me as to why he chose against his saxophone.)
Goodman's band, at that time, was clearly the superior in swing. Goodman was the King of Swing, after all. Shaw had assembled and dissolved numerous versions of at least 8 bands between 1936 and 1955 (he was never satisfied with how they sounded.) He finally got a break in 1939, when Goodman had taken some months off to reorganize. This meant, according to Schuller, that Shaw had no real competition for several months.
Goodman and Shaw were finally on even ground. But it was temporary.
Tune in next time...
(yes, it's a cliffhanger)
I'm halfway through his autobiography, The Trouble With Cinderella. He was a smart man. I mean this in the intellectual sense. His thought process was well-defined and philosophical, and he had made a commitment to learning.
What I've been after since I started reading about him is: Why did this saxophone player suddenly decide to become one of America's greatest clarinet players? He was, in the beginning of his playing career, hired for his saxophone skills, and was, at best, a mediocre clarinetist.
Finally, I picked up a copy of Gunther Schuller's excellent book The Swing Era and was happy to find that Schuller was wondering the exact same thing. In fact, one of the first things Schuller has to say about Shaw is how odd it was that Shaw made the decision to bring his clarinet playing skills up to par with his rival Benny Goodman. (Turns out he practiced like a mad man in order to bring his clarinet skills up to par, but it still isn't completely clear to me as to why he chose against his saxophone.)
Goodman's band, at that time, was clearly the superior in swing. Goodman was the King of Swing, after all. Shaw had assembled and dissolved numerous versions of at least 8 bands between 1936 and 1955 (he was never satisfied with how they sounded.) He finally got a break in 1939, when Goodman had taken some months off to reorganize. This meant, according to Schuller, that Shaw had no real competition for several months.
Goodman and Shaw were finally on even ground. But it was temporary.
Tune in next time...
(yes, it's a cliffhanger)
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