steelstringcheese

I came up with this lick last night, which combines several ideas worth practicing. It was intended for use in an E dorian context.

We begin with E minor pentatonic, but with fingering spaced in a way that creates a modern, “fusion-esque” impression. We descend into D minor for a moment; then arpeggiate a D#7 before returning to E minor. The lick could end here, but I chose to extend it with a few small arpeggios: Em7, Bm, Amaj, and Dmaj7.

Like any longer lick, don’t just practice this with the intent to use as-is. Consider this seed material for other fresh ideas. Break up its components and see what you can make with them.

Jazz seems to be on a decline. Here in Madison, I have seen most of the (already few) clubs that hosted live jazz either change their format or close their doors. In this article by Kurt Ellenberger, we learn that not only are audiences less likely than ever to attend live jazz or classical performances; but our suspicion that they only need to be taught an appreciation through structured academic programs is wrong.

Ellenberger refers to this as “The Education Fallacy.” Data collected clearly shows a negative correspondence between jazz education and concert attendance. If we cannot instill an appreciation for live jazz and classical music in the schools, we leave young adults to discover this music amidst a pop culture environment that discourages the development of active listening skills — a frightening consideration.

There is a glint of hope, revealed in the comments, where readers suggest the problem lies not in the audience’s lack of interest in these styles of music, but in a waning capacity to enjoy live shows. In our living rooms, we are free to concentrate on the subtleties of music with little distraction, at virtually no cost beyond the initial acquisition of the recording. Perhaps audiences are as sophisticated as ever, enough at least to seek listening experiences that are untainted by the peripheral hassle of attending clubs and concert halls. The artist’s new challenge is to deliver something in person that cannot be replicated in a digital file.

This is part of a mission I am undertaking. I am in the process of assembling a group that is based on the premise that no music is good enough to bring people into clubs, but a musical performance can be. I have mentioned it in passing, and I’ll continue to keep you updated.

Let’s ignore that the music is a throwback to the smooth 90′s. These guys can jam. And the bassist is apparently eleven years old.

I have seem some jaded reactions to this performance, along the lines of, “Let’s see what he can do in ten years;” but if you’re tempted down that road, forget yourself long enough to simply appreciate what this kid has done so far.

As I broke from my arranging for the night, I thought I might take inspiration from this video. I was not at all disappointed. I hope it touches you as it has me.

I can be really flighty. Sometimes I convince myself that the breaks I take from my work are for legitimate reasons, but at the end of the day I know I have wasted a good deal of time. Ego has a way of messing with your productivity.

But I have somehow stumbled across the Pomodoro time management method, and so far it seems to be working. It especially seems pretty well-suited for creative types who need to self-motivate to get things done.

Pomodoro requires that you work non-stop with absolutely no interruptions, self-imposed or external, for 25 minutes at a time, using a timer with an alarm to regulate work sessions. Any interruption, like a sudden brainstorm which could result in taking on another task, the desire to eat, or an incoming phone call, is tallied in a spreadsheet and processed between sessions. Every day begins with planning and ends with analysis.

Since I began using it just last week, I have gotten more arranging done for my new ensemble than I would have otherwise completed in a month. This method forces me to eliminate distractions; and if you’re as easily distracted as I, you may benefit from it as well. Visit pomodorotechnique.com to learn more, and be sure to download the free eBook while you’re there. For even more resources, follow this link to Amazon.com.

I have a theory about what coffee and wine have in common: With either, when you first try it, you don’t care what you’re getting. Once you get into it, you care what you get. Then, once you’ve gotten quite deeply into it, you don’t care what you’re getting.

Maybe there is something to this three-stage model of discovery, because an article by tech blogger Rian van der Merwe reminded me of the three stages of discovering Miles Davis’s album Kind of Blue:

1. The casual jazz listener, on the advice of aficionados, acquires the album. It becomes his go-to album, because the textures are soothing and the melodies are accessible.
2. The serious jazz listener, having the ability to comprehend and appreciate more complex styles, loses interest in Kind of Blue, partly because of its slow pace and mellow mood, partly because it is familiar enough to have worn out its first impression.
3. The enlightened listener begins noticing subtle traces of genius beneath the album’s modest surface, and his ability to enjoy it returns with an updated perspective.

As I write this, I recall something similar I recently told a fellow musician during a barroom discussion of Mozart: “First you like him because of his pretty melodies, then you learn about music enough to recognize that the classical era is dreadfully boring, then you learn enough more to be able to pick up on subversive little touches, and you then realize why Mozart was so brilliant.”

Anyway, here is Rian’s article, in which he suggests lessons we can learn from Kind of Blue. This is a good read for anyone who creates, not just musicians:

Article: A story about Miles Davis and the nature of true genius

And if you don’t yet have Kind of Blue, for Pete’s sake, get it! You can purchase it through the link below for the price of a meal at McDonald’s, and you’ll be supporting the site in doing so:

May I present this video of a performance of Erik Satie’s Vexations:

And here is the related Wikipedia article, a rather interesting read: Vexations (Wikipedia)

In The Time of Music: New Meanings, New Temporalities, New Listening Strategies, Jonathan Kramer writes the following reaction:

But then I found myself moving into a different listening mode. I was entering the vertical time of the piece. My present expanded, as I forgot about the music’s past and future. I was no longer bored. And I was no longer frustrated because I had given up expecting. I had left behind my habits of teleological listening. I found myself fascinated with what I was hearing…True, my attention did wander and return, but during the periods of attending I found the composition to hold great interest. I became incredibly sensitive to even the smallest performance nuance, to an extent impossible when confronting the high information content of traditional music. When pianists traded off at the end of their twenty-minute stints, the result was an enormous contrast that opened a whole new world, despite their attempt to play as much like each other as possible. What little information I found in the music was in the slight performance variability, not in the notes or rhythms.

It seems Kramer has echoed a more succinct statement by John Cage:

In Zen they say: If something is boring after two minutes, try it for four. If still boring, try it for eight, sixteen, thirty-two, and so on. Eventually one discovers that it’s not boring at all, but very interesting.