Sam Newsome's Blogspot: Soprano Sax Talk

Getting to the Level Black

2013-06-19T10:23:00.002-07:00

A couple of years ago I started subscribing to Kenny Werner’s webinars on Effort-less Mastery. It was almost like a radio talk show where people called in to talk musical problems, instead of the airing their dirty laundry about relationships. What was great about the program was that we got a chance to hear Kenny expound on many of things talked about in his book “Effortless Mastery.” There were only around eight or nine webinars, but there’s lifetime of information in each of them.

One of my favorite moments was when Kenny, as a response to one of the caller’s questions, began to discuss the three levels of knowing: black, white and grey.

1. Black is all knowing. Which means having total mastery of the material at hand. Or as Kenny says, “It plays itself.”

2. White is not knowing at all. This means being totally unfamiliar with the material at hand.

3. Grey, on the other had, is a little more complicated. This is when you know the material, but not as well as you think you do. In other words, you know it, but not to the level where “it plays itself.”

As you can imagine, some of these levels are easier to recognize than others. If you’re on a gig and someone calls a tune that you’ve never played, it’s easy to recognize that your level of knowing of that tune is at the white level. However, when someone calls a tune that you’ve been playing for ten years, then recognizing the level at which you know it becomes more difficult. Even though you’ve been playing it for a long time, there might be a couple of chord changes you’re where never quite sure about. Or maybe there is a part of the melody that you never learned correctly. These things may seem minor, but just from the fact that not knowing them can cause doubt and hesitation, prevents you from having it mastered. More importantly, it prevents the tune from “playing itself.”

Most of us, myself included, often stop at the grey level when we learn things. That’s because, as Kenny alludes to in one of the webinars, we measure progress by how often we move from one thing to the next, rather than how deeply we have absorbed the material. Some of this comes from impatience, some comes from being taught that way. Let’s face it, those of us who teach privately probably wouldn’t have many returning students if we taught them one thing for three of four months until they “absorbed it deeply.” So there’s a tendency for us to always move on to something new just to keep students interested--which is totally understandable.

And it's not very realistic to think that you can know everything in your head on the black level. This is even more reason why you should be more selective when you practice. If you're simultaneously working on ten different things, you will not get all ten of those things above the grey level. You're not giving yourself a chance to absorb any one thing deeply enough to learn it at the black level.

I have several students who would blame sub-standard performances on nervousness or not being focused. But you don’t fumble over chord changes or forget the lyrics because you’re nervous, these things happen because you don’t know the material very well. It other words, the material didn’t play itself.

I explain it to them like this:

1. nervousness + white level = horrible performance

2. nervousness + grey level = a flawed performance

3. nervousness + black level = a flawless performance, while nervous.

In conclusion, I'd like to just say that learning anything at a level of mastery (or the black level of knowing) goes far beyond just putting in hundreds of hours of practice. It's a way of life. Ultimately, you want to aim for total mastery with and without your instrument. It could be mastery of your mental and physical health, or mastery of just being good to your fellow man. So it's not just being able to play music at the black level, but also being able to live your life that way. As Wayne Shorter says, "Music is just a drop in the bucket."

The Fruition-Realization Formula

2013-06-03T09:42:00.001-07:00

Being a jazz musician requires us to be somewhat of a visionary--on small and large scales. The improvisatory nature of the music forces us to envision far beyond what's there. And there are different levels of envisioning. There's envisioning how to navigate your way through a set of chord changes; envisioning how to compose a tune: and some take it as far as envisioning a new concept. And envisioning an idea is one thing; however, bringing it to fruition is another.

Experience has taught me that in order to bring an idea or vision to fruition, three things must be in order: (1) a clear mind, (2) a clear vision, and (3) the skills to execute.

In other words, a clear mind + clear vision + skills to execute = fruition.

And I don't mean to presume that having these three things guarantees success, but they do increase the odds for success.

(1) A clear mind:
If you think of the creative mind as a canvass, it would be very difficult to create anything new if your canvass is cluttered with other things. Simply put: junk. And these things could be anything from negative thoughts to past and future endeavors. Having a completely clear mind can take years of practice. I suggest aiming at having a less-cluttered mind. It's at least a good place to start.

(2) A clear vision:
If you're not sure of where you want to go or how to get there, you're almost certain to be derailed off your path. Racecar drivers are taught that if their car goes into a tailspin, they should always keep their eyes on where they want to go. If their focus is on driving into a wall, then they probably will.

(3) Skills to execute:
This may be one of the most important components of the fruition-realization equation. You might have a clear mind, a clear idea of what you want to do, but if you don't have the skills to execute it, bringing it to fruition is not very likely. Just imagine you're going a vacation and you know exactly where you want to go, you have a map explaining exactly how to get there, yet, you have no gas in the car. It might make things a tad bit difficult.

So the next time you set out to realize an idea or vision, make sure you run it through this checklist. It could mean the difference between hitting your mark and hitting a wall.

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Remembering Mulgrew MIller

2013-05-30T07:22:00.000-07:00

I first met Mulgrew back in the early nineties. I was 24 years old, wet behind the ears, and I had just signed a contract to do a couple of records with the Criss Cross label. Gerry Teekens, the label’s owner/producer was always very quick to remind me that I was a young-unknown and that I needed to surround myself with name players. This was during a time when recording companies, large and small, actually expected to see a profit.

When we were trying to decide on the personnel for the bass, drums, and another horn, we went through a long list of people. However, when we were deciding on whom to get on piano, once Mulgrew’s name was mentioned, that was it--no other pianists ever came up.

When Mulgrew graciously accepted to do the date, I was very ecstatic. I was going to get a chance to play with the person whose playing I had grown to admire on classic albums such as Woody Shaw’s United, Art Blakey & the Jazz Messenger’s The New York Scene, and Kenny Garrett’s debut CD on Criss Cross, Introducing Kenny Garrett. These were all 1980s gems, back when you had to leave your home and go to a record store if you wanted to purchase someone’s music.

I was so nervous about my record date that I didn’t sleep or eat the night before. Those who know me know that these are two areas that I don’t usually skimp on. I had Steve Nelson on vibes (instead of another horn) Billy Drummond on drums, James Genus on bass, and of course, Mulgrew Miller on piano. That session was a particularly difficult one for me, emotionally--not only was I was a nervous wreck, but nobody seemed interested in my performance. That’s how I felt anyway. It seemed like all of the band members, the producer and the engineer were too busy in awe of Mulgrew.

Every time we listened back to a take in the studio, all I heard was “Yeah, Mulgrew.” Mulgrew Miller, Damn!” “Mulgrew, you sound great.” “Grew!” After a while, I was starting to wonder whose date it was. I wouldn't have been surprised if I had been asked to sit out on a couple of tunes. And I did realize that all of the real time praise that he was receiving was well deserved. After all, he was ripping it up on every tune—thoroughly.

Eventually I did my put insecurities aside and rose to the occasion—the best that I could. Trust me, it’s not a good feeling just trying to hold your own on your own record date. But it was what it was. When you decide to play with the big boys, getting slapped around a little bit comes with the territory.

After the dust had settled, I’m happy to say that I came away having made a nice record. And it made the New York Times 2005 Top Ten Albums List. So not a bad ending for what started off as not a pleasant day.

Unfortunately, I never got a chance to play with Mulgrew again after that date. We shared the same billing many times, but that’s as close as it got.

Here’s one of my favorite solos of his from Sam I Am. This is my arrangement of “Indiana.” One this take, you’ll definitely hear what I meant when I said that he was "ripping it up." Oh yeah, and Steve Nelson is bringing it pretty hard too.

Thanks, Mulgrew, for your beautiful music and your beautiful spirit. RIP.

The 10,000-Hour Soprano Rule

2013-05-23T10:01:00.000-07:00

In Malcolm Gladwell’s 2010 best selling book, Outliers, he discusses what he calls the "10,000-hour rule." He arrived at this number by surveying several classical musicians, discovering that in order for them to reach the level of musicianship where they could perform as a concert player, they needed at least 10,000 hours of practice--which comes out to roughly 3 hours a day for 10 years. This rule, of course, extends far beyond music; it applies to tennis players, golfers, pool-players--you name it.

When I first read this, I was reminded of a conversation I had with a record producer who told me that I shouldn’t play the soprano exclusively because it was too limiting. But I explained to him that it wasn’t so much that the soprano is limiting as it is people don’t get a chance to hear the result of someone having spent several years, solely committed to developing a voice on the instrument. In other words, very few people have put in their 10,000 hours mastering its ins and outs and all of its idiosyncrasies.

I didn’t start playing the soprano exclusively until I was 30. And it really wasn’t until I was 40 that I started to feel like I had a good understanding of how to play it. Up until then, I was always at the mercy of my reed and mouthpiece. It was only after I put in my 10,000 hours that I started to develop the chops and a deep enough understanding of the instrument to even attempt something as difficult as playing solo—not to mention being able to play all of the extended techniques that have now become part of my sonic repertoire.

Another factor to consider regarding the 10,000-hour soprano rule is that one also needs to put in several hours of soprano-centric listening to gain a true understanding of how it should sound. When I first started playing the soprano exclusively, my sound was a lot louder. I could hold my own with trumpet players. But I wasn’t producing a soprano sound. It was the tenor sax 8va, which is what I hear a lot nowadays--either that, or alto.

I actually went through a transformation period of only listening exclusively to soprano players, as a way of erasing the sound of the tenor's lower range from my ears. I remember that I played a tenor saxophone a few years back and I was amazed at how high I was able to play. Mind you, when I only played the tenor, I could barely play a high G. Even while playing in the altissimo of the tenor, it never felt high enough. By that time, I was definitely hearing the higher range of the soprano.

I could never say in good faith and with certainty that 10,000 hours plus practice equals a master soprano player (10,000 + p = msp). But it does equal a better understanding of the instrument and of its quirks.

Another thing I’ve noticed, too, is that, since players have already reach a certain level of proficiency on one of the other saxophones, they’re not striving as hard to develop the soprano to the next level. Typically what happens is once players have a pretty good handle on how to play it in tune and instrumental dexterity, a lot of time is spent trying out the latest mouthpiece and horn--which I ultimately see as the beginning of the downward spiral. Many of the new horns give players a false sense of accomplishment. The instrument is easier to play in tune, but you don’t develop the skills necessary for real instrumental control. Newer model horns and mouthpieces don’t solve problems, they just enable players to mask them. And eventually they surface again.

You don’t have to use 10,000 soprano rule in the literal sense, but it is good use metaphorically to understand that in order to play the soprano well, it takes time, patience, and many, many hours of practice—sometimes 10,000 of them.

Should There Be Only One Type of Jazz?

2013-05-17T07:53:00.001-07:00

Should there only be one type of jazz? Many have been very vocal in expressing their dislike in the way that some attach cultural-specific pre-fixes to jazz that comes from their country or culture--some of the more common ones being Euro-jazz, Latin-jazz, Brazilian-jazz, etc. The common argument is that when people speak of classical music that is written or performed by musicians who come from non-European countries they don’t give it titles like South African-classical music or Latin-classical music. So why do they feel compelled to do so with jazz?

One reason I feel this is true is because when countries such as Brazil and South Africa does attach cultural specific prefixes to jazz, it’s because the particular hybrid of jazz produced in these places does integrate melodies, rhythms and instruments that are often specific to their country or culture, and does warrant a cultural specific title that lets the listener know that there are other exotic entities that line the fabric of this particular strain of jazz. Secondly, with regards to performing jazz-- putting blues and swing aside--the essence of the music is freedom of expression. So if you live and grew up in Paris, why should your expression be the same as someone who grew up on the South side of Chicago?

When playing classical music, however, it’s all about interpreting the music with the original intent of the composer, and playing in the style that the music was written. If a group of musicians from Poland claimed they were playing Polish-New Orleans jazz. That’s a different story. Because when you focus on a specific style of jazz that’s already well defined, then it become more like classical music, leaving less room for individual expression and definitely less cultural interpretation.

The Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra and Vince Giordano and the Blackhawks (a 1920s repertoire band) are perfect examples of this. Much of what they do is interpret classic jazz repertoire with a certain stylistic specificity. And I think there is a place for this. But we must keep in mind that this is a classical aesthetic, not a jazz one. Organizations like JALC cater to a much older demographic who really like the classics. This demographic is often not interested in some new hybrid. They like their jazz the way the Tea Party likes their America—the way it used to be.

I think it makes for a very vibrant global jazz community when other parts of the world put a nationalist slant on the jazz that they play. One of the life lessons that I’ve learned as a jazz musician is that it is OK to be you—whoever you might be. If you can interpret jazz from a unique perspective, everybody benefits, because it breathes new life into the music.

And, to be honest, I can see things from the purist’s perspective, too. It’s a little annoying to see some knucklehead from Norway who claims to play Norwegian jazz, but knows nothing about the tradition of jazz and has no interest in finding out. Even my tolerance level runs lows for musicians who approach jazz with this level of entitlement. But on the flip side of the coin, sometimes it takes that level of cluelessness to stumble into unchartered waters, because you're only dealing with what is, and not what you think it's supposed to be according to fellow torch bearers of the tradition.

In conclusion, I just want to say that jazz music and the people who create it, have never remained idle. Between the 1920s and 1980s, jazz music went through a least seven transformations--some turned out better than others. But the music still maintained its vitality, nonetheless. So to all of the protective mother hens of the music trying to protect her baby, just let the music be what it’s always been--music for everybody and played by everybody.

"Blue Swagger" - The Art of Solo Soprano Saxophone

2013-03-27T19:03:00.000-07:00

The following piece is called "Blue Swagger, " from my 2009 release, Blue Soliloquy. It's probably one of the more jazzy and straight ahead pieces on the CD. It's seventeen bars in length and is comprised of all dominant 7th chords. You might say that this piece exemplifies my Thelonious Monk influence.

Like many of my solo pieces, I like to use call-in-response as a way creating a sense of dialogue, and what some might call self-interplay. This is very common amongst chordal instruments, but less common amongst wind instruments due to the fact that they're monophonic by nature.

As a matter of fact, this is one of the reasons I began my several-year study and practice of multi-phonics. Mastering them allowed me to expand my sound palette, enabling me to perform similar musical tasks as piano and guitar players. Many of the multi-phonics used on this piece function as upper extensions of the dominant 7th chords.

For example in the first two bars, I establish the harmony by playing a riff that outlines the G chord. Consequently, when I sound the multi-phonic with the Bb, G, and Eb, it's naturally heard as the #9, 8, and b13 of the chord. The rest of the piece follows a similar logic.

Just a quick note about multi-phonics. In the beginning, if they're difficult to play in the context of the piece, I suggest practicing them in isolation. And as a general rule of thumb, the slower the airflow and the more relaxed the throat, the more one can control the multi-phonic. For further explanation about controlling the speed of the airflow, please see my earlier post "Oral Cavity Manipulation."

In understanding the saxophone tablature, the 8va means that the octave is pressed. Everything else, I believe is self-explanatory.

Lastly, as a musical reference, I've included a recorded example which demonstrates how I interpreted the piece.

Have fun!

Oral Cavity Manipulation

2013-03-20T17:25:00.001-07:00

On the subject of oral cavity manipulation, there is often the misunderstanding that this process involves literally “opening” and “closing” the throat. When in fact, the position of the tongue is the contributing factor to obtaining oral cavity flexibility. Classical saxophonist Kyle Horch also agrees that it is essential to have an open throat, but argues that this may not be the most useful way to conceptualize the process.

He writes:

Musicians often speak of the necessity of having an open throat. For most of the course of the trachea this is no problem; our lives depend on an open trachea and it is actually quite impossible to close it. The danger area is at the top of the throat, where the trachea opens into the back of the oral cavity. Here, it is possible to have a sensation of ‘closing’ the throat. To avoid this, some players try to imagine the throat as being as open as when yawning. Personally, I try to have my throat feel as open and relaxed during blowing as it was during the inhalation of the previous breath. In my experience, however, the real culprit in most internal bottlenecks is actually the tongue, which can easily arch either backwards out over the throat opening, or up toward the roof of the mouth. The syllable method is a useful tool in creating practice models. The tongue position used in saying vowel sounds such as AH and OO allows an unobstructed airflow, as opposed to EE or IH, for example, which cause the tongue to rise, narrowing the flow and changing the character of the vocal tone from an open, relaxed quality to a more restricted, intense quality. (Horch 1998, 78).

Using the “syllable method” as a tool for tongue placement memorization is an effective technique often utilized by many players. Jazz saxophonist Dave Liebman also talks about this process in great detail, discussing how using phonetic syllables are instrumental in regulating the air stream velocity. He writes:

Imagine that the mouth cavity is like a cave with air entering at one end (from the throat passage) and exiting at the other end into the mouthpiece. The position of the hump portion of the tongue is crucial because of its effect upon air resistance, which in turn influences the final velocity of the air stream. Much like any body of disturbance in the middle of our imagined cave, we have to consider what the best position would be for the desired result. . . . The optimum position for this “disturbing” body or tongue hump is somewhere in the middle of the oral cavity, allowing the air stream to go above, below and around it (Liebman 1994, 23)

It is apparent from the writings of Horce and Liebman that learning to control the various air stream velocities are significant in helping to gain control of the oral cavity process. The following table presents syllables devised by Horce (highlighted in yellow), and myself that may be used to achieve three (3) levels of air stream velocities. Each of the syllables when sounded creates frequent vibrations in the throat that range from relaxed to tense, also noted in the table. The appropriate air velocity needed all depends on what the performer is attempting to accomplished.

Low Velocity (Very Relaxed)	Medium Velocity (Relax	High Velocity (Restricted)
Taw	Tah	Tee
Aw	Ah	Ee
Low	Lah	Lee

Table I: Syllables used to achieve varying levels of air stream velocities and tension in the throat

When attempting to incorporate the syllables in Table I, you must also take into consideration the different variables that may affect the effectiveness of the syllables: (1) the register in which they’re played, (2) the volume at which they’re played, and (3) the instrument, mouthpiece, and reed combination that’s used to play them.

The following oral cavity manipulation exercise in Figure 2:1 was designed to help with pitch flexibility and aural acuity. The D note, which is the first note in each measure, is the only pitch that is actually fingered. Incorporating the “syllable method, ”all notes, from Db down to G natural, are played by lowering the pitch using the “TAW “ sound. As noted in Figure 2:1, the ‘TAW” is used to lower the pitch down to the desired note, and the “EE” is used to raise the pitch back to the original note--which in this case is the D note.

Figure 2:1 Oral cavity exercise using the syllable method

Figure 2:1 may also be practiced, beginning and ending with the following pitches:

(1) F3– C3

(2) E3 – B3

(3) Eb3 – Bb3

(4) D3 – A3

(5) Db3 – Ab2

(6) C3—G2

If after you become comfortable with the aforementioned exercises you decide to extend them, play to the lower register of the instrument, you may find it difficult to play the exercise in its entirety. However, in the extreme lower register of the instrument, such as D1 – Bb1, it is important to note that any noticeable differences in the pitch being lowered will still prove beneficial in utilizing the oral cavity manipulation process. Furthermore, it has been my experience that producing these syllables in any register will sharpen the player’s aural acuity, as well as their sense of tongue position memorization. It is suggested that the notes in the exercises in Figure 2:1 are check by against the same notes using conventional fingerings and/or a chromatic tuner.

Oral cavity manipulation is often the key focus of players when attempting to perform notes and sounds that go beyond the original scope of the instrument, also known as extended techniques. It is importnat to note that this should be the focus even when attempting to play notes that are “normal.” Saxophonist and educator Michael Hester also agrees with this assessment. In his article “Saxophone Altissimo” Yamaha Educator Series, he states:

It is unfortunate that saxophonists are not faced with oral cavity flexibility early in their musical development. Performers on brass instruments and the flute deal with this day one. Squeaks played by young saxophonist are simply valid notes that they did not have the control to avoid. It would be very easy for a teacher to place a wall between the student and future attempts at the highest notes by treating such an event as a terrible mistake…It is best to explain that a squeak is a real note, demonstrate it for him or her and then ask the student to try and produce that note again (Hester 2).

It is evident that oral cavity manipulation plays an important role in helping saxophonists understand the inner workings of sound control, particularly as it pertains to performing extended techniques such as multi-phonics, microtone production, and the altissimo register. However, these procedures only represent one half of the extended-technique puzzle. The other half is having an understanding of the fingerings used once air has been blown through the instruments to produce these sounds—which, by the way, is the topic of the next discussion.

References:

Horch, Kyle. The Cambridge Companion to the Saxophone

(1998): 78.

Liebman, Dave. Developing a Personal Saxophone Sound

(1994): 23.

Hester, Michael. “Saxophone Altissimo.” Yamaha Educator Series:

Breathing 101: A Two-Step Process

2013-03-14T18:22:00.000-07:00

When playing the saxophone it is important for the performer to view breathing as a two-step process: inhalation and exhalation. It sounds like a no-brainer, but often times we have tendency to place a lot of emphasis on the exhalation process not so much on inhaling. I tend to view the breath of the breathing process as being like violinist’s bow during bowing. Only then it's up bow and down bow, each being of equal importance.

Normally when we practice longs tones, we take a quick breath, and then exhale slowly trying to hold the steady tone for as long as possible. But in order to fully master the breathing process it is important to practice both steps slowly. Below is a practice routine to help you master the process.

Step One: Set the metronome at a slow metronomic marking. I suggest starting with a moderately slow M.M. such as quarter note = 70. As you become more comfortable with the process you can gradually decrease the tempo.

Step Two: The goal here is to inhale as slowly as possible. In the beginning it’s good to give yourself a set goal such as to inhale for two measures or 8 Inhaltion Beats Per Minutes (IBPM).

As shown in the example below, measures 1 & 2 should be for inhaling only.

Step Three: Once you inhaled for two measure, you can then start the exhalation process or Exhalation Beats Per Minute (EBPM) from measures 3 - 6. Generally, your EBPM is twice that of your IBPM. For example if you inhale for two measures, your IBPM is 8; whereas, if you exhale for four measures, your EBPM is 16. I suggest that when you log your breathing that you keep track of the beats instead of the measures because your progress may occur in one beat increments instead one measure increments ( four beats).

Even though it would be impossible to breathe this way during performance, the goal here is to train yourself to view your breathing as a two-step process, giving you the breath control to play at many dynamic levels and speeds.

Just remember this: If you don’t load up with enough fuel before embarking upon your journey, you might find yourself out of gas, stuck on the side of the road!

Blindfold Test w/ Ted Panken

2013-03-04T19:18:00.000-08:00

I'm happy to announce that my first Downbeat blindfold test conducted by jazz journalist Ted Panken is now available in the April issue. We did the test during the last week of December of 2012 at LIU Brooklyn in the Spector Lounge, a few doors down from my office.

Thinking back on it, it felt very relaxing being in that backroom during the Christmas break, especially with hardly anyone in the entire building--except for a few professors doing some 11th hour grading.

And I remember that day being particularly cold and rainy, too. We were at the beginning stages of what was to be a mild snowstorm. But fortunately the hang with Ted was warm and cordial.

The last time we got together was at his brownstone in Fort Greene, Brooklyn, back in 1998 when he was hired to write the press release for my, then, soon-to-be-released recording, Sam Newsome & Global Unity. He wanted to sit down with me face-to-face and listen to the recording to get my insight on things.

The premise for this blindfold test was that it was to be all about the soprano saxophone. Which might explain some of my comments, which seemed to be somewhat harsh on players whom I felt didn't sound like soprano players. What can I say? Someone has got to advocate for the instrument. And a lot of people asked me how many of the players was I able to identify. But I wasn't too hung up on trying to score a 100. I think the purpose of these kinds of interviews is to get insight into the artist's perspective on music. As a matter of fact, blindfold tests where all that the musician does is name the players on the recordings, end up being very boring. I usually come away thinking, "Man, I could have just Googled this." I think we would get more interesting responses if the name was changed to "Hey, What Do You Think About This?"

But I was very appreciative of Ted and the folks at Downbeat for giving me the opportunity. I know Downbeat can be a very hype-oriented magazine (or as they say down South, "hype-orientated"), so I'm glad they were open to doing something a little different, this time around.

Who knows? Maybe there's hope!

Microtonality and the Blues

2013-02-27T19:13:00.001-08:00

My interest in micro-tonality first began about 10 years ago after reading in a jazz history book how the blue notes originally sung by the West African slaves were actually in-between notes, or what we now think of as microtones. They sang in-between the major and minor third, the fifth and flatted fifth, the major and minor 7^th. The notes that have now been accepted as the standardized blue note are approximations made by musicologists who attempted to noted these foreign tones that they were hearing for the first time.

Microtones used in the context of the blues, in many ways, is contrary to how we are conditioned to think of them—which is usually as something that’s very cold or academic. It’s rare that we think of using microtones as way of making the music more expressive, more humanistic. I’ve found that they allow us to play more organically, drawing notes from what microtonal composer Ken Gann refers to as “a vast continuum of glissando pitches”--which, by the way, is how we naturally sing and speak--rather than being confined to the 12 tones of equal temperament,

Saxophonist Eric Dolphy, once asked, “If birds can sing quartertones, why shouldn’t we play them?” And I think this question posed by Dolphy goes back to what to the Gann reference which states that microtones are part of a vast continuum of glissando pitches. Birds don’t sing quartertones for the same reasons that we play them: to sound hip, academic, or cutting-edge. They sing them because they're what they naturally hear.

One classic example of microtones being used as devises for augmented expressiveness can be heard on the Robert Johnson recording of “Drunken Hearted Man,” on which he takes many tempered liberties with the melodies, singing what some theorists have referred to as neutral tones—notes that are neither major nor minor, but neutral. And it’s not uncommon for vocalists, whether singing Delta blues or Indian ragas, to make tonal inflections an integral part of their singing. But what Robert Johnson does is little different. You get a sense that he is hearing these neutral tones as separate entities and not just as inflections. It’s sort of like a painter seeing the color grey as grey, and not the color black mixed with white, or white mixed with black.

Microtonal composer and bassoonist Johnny Reinhard once wrote that microtones “are passports to experiencing different cultures.” This is so true. With these "microtonal passports," so to speak, one would be able to experience the Delta blues of the Deep South of the United States; Indonesian gamelan music from Asia, Bulgarian music from Eastern Europe, and exotics scales from the Middle East.

And whereas “microtones are passports to experiencing different cultures,” the blues, however, is a conglomeration of many different cultures. Within the blues, you have the pentatonic scale common in Far East and African music, the “in-between” tonal inflections practiced in Middle Eastern and Southeast Asian cultures, and the I-IV-V harmonic progression ubiquitous in European classical.

One of the idiosyncratic beauties of Thelonious Monk’s playing was how he always sounded like he was trying to play in-between the cracks of the notes on the piano. Many have alluded that Monk could make an in-tune piano sound out of tune. Which to me is just another way of saying he made a Western instrument sound non-Western. And to some this can mean micro-tonal. This thought was the impetus behind my arrangement of “Blue Monk,” where I elongated Monk’s use of semi-tone chromatics with quartertone chromatics. And because I was working with twice as many notes, in certain spots I slightly had to rhythmically alter the melody, doing my best to keep the essence of the original in tact.

To enable you to play the the quarter tones, I’ve included a quarter tone fingering chart from the Ronald L. Caravan book, Preliminary Techniques and Exercises for Contemporary Saxophone. His original intent was that these fingerings were to be used for the alto member of the saxophone family, but I found that they also work on the soprano and tenor. Please note that on my arrangement of “Blue Monk” that I use the inverted flat to represent the quarter flat and two inverted flats to symbolize three-quarters flat; whereas, Caravan uses the darkened flat to symbolize the quarter flat and two darkened flats for three-quarters flat.

It takes practice to get used to fingerings and hearing the quartertones. So take it nice and slow in the beginning. And I’ve also included the recorded version from my CD, Blue Soliloquy: Solo Works for Soprano Saxophone.

Enjoy!

Breadth vs. Depth – What is Your Musical Brand Identity?

2013-02-20T17:38:00.001-08:00

Musicians usually at some point find themselves thinking about the subject of branding. Branding is typically thought of in superficial terms like wearing your hair a certain way, or wearing certain types of clothing. These are all surface level things. Real branding comes from projecting an image of musical depth versus musical breadth. In other words, do people view you as a Jack-of-all trades or Jack the expert trader.

To better understand my point, let’s first define the two terms.

(1) Musical breadth: This means playing music or having a musical vision that’s very broad in scope. Some may refer to it as wearing many different musical hats. One example is being a pianist who specializes in music for all occasions. Your business card might advertise that you have a jazz piano trio, a Latin-jazz band, and a top 40 wedding band. Or you might present yourself as a keyboardist/organist/accordion player.

(2) Musical depth: This means being narrow in scope in that you only offer one type of musical service. In other words, you are a specialist on one instrument and/or in one specific area of music. One example is being a bass player who only plays free jazz, or a drummer who only plays bebop, or an extremist like myself who only plays the soprano sax. The operative word is ONLY.

This can be a very intimidating word. And downright scary if this is attached to what you do. It can signify that you’re limited. Which for some translates into fewer opportunities and less income. This, however, is not necessarily the case, which I’ll explain a little later.

Being a musician of breadth can seem more comforting. However, it too has its drawbacks. One, being breadth requires more of a time commitment, because now instead of nurturing one thing, you’re nurturing three or four. And mind you, the music your producing or the service you’re providing is never going to be at the level of those produced and serviced by specialists. If your top 40 band is just one on many groups you lead, it’s probably not going to be as good as the top 40 music produced by the person who eats, drinks, and sleeps top 40.

It simple terms, being a musician whose musical vision is broad in scope means to be viewed as a source (or a worker); whereas, being one whose musical vision is more narrow in scope or specific, means being viewed as a resource (or the best at what you do). In the musical marketplace, sources are many, and resources are few. Typically, musical resources command more respect, even though sources may be more in demand.

Just imagine, a woodwind player who gets most of his work from being picked from a directory or a sub-list is not going to be as revered as the clarinet specialist whose hired for his unique voice and/or creative input.

I definitely feel since I’ve become a soprano player I’m viewed more as a resource than a source. I rarely get calls from musicians looking for “someone who plays the soprano,” even though I wouldn’t mind. I’m usually called because they’re looking for my voice. Which, for me, is a lot more flattering. And let me not trivialized multi-instrumentalists. There are saxophonists like Scott Robinson and James Carter who have turned doubling into an art form.

But my point is this. Your branding simply comes from commitment. Make a commitment to what you do, and your audience will do the rest. People make the grave error of trying to become someone they think other people want to see. Wrong. The best branding I’ve seen came from people not giving a shit. And it was not giving a shit, coupled with profound work that projected such a strong image and a very identifiable brand.

So don’t be influenced by pop music’s interpretation of branding. That forced method of image-making only works because there’s a lot of marketing money behind it.

Real branding doesn’t cost you a dime.

Sometimes a Small Audience Can Be a Good Thing

2013-02-15T17:11:00.000-08:00

This may sound strange to some, but I feel making music for a small, select group of people can be a good thing. For this simple reason: It keeps your music honest and focused. I have heard musicians being criticized for making music for only other musicians. Personally, I see nothing wrong with this concept.

The recurring narrative is that musician-oriented music is “too cold and heady” to be appreciated by the average listener.

There are a few flaws with this criticism. First, most musicians I know don’t enjoy music that’s very cold and heady just for the sake of being cold and heady. I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t want to be moved and inspired when listening to music. So that negates the whole “for musicians only” theory. Secondly, if someone’s music is cold and uncommunicative, it has nothing to do with the demographic of listener that the music targets. It’s simply just means that the player or players, are probably not very warm and engaging, no matter who they’re playing for. A great example is Miles Davis. His music had warmth and was engaging whether he was playing cool jazz, free jazz or jazz-rock.

Now let’s look at hip-hop. At the onset, the pioneers of this genre were just making music for the people in their neighborhoods. It was something to be appreciated at community social gatherings such as block parties and dances. They weren’t trying to make something that white kids in the suburbs would appreciate, or something that spoke to middle America. It was geared towards a very select group of people. And because the music was so honest, provocative, and original, it spoke to people who didn’t grow up in their world. Then with the help of major financial backing of record labels, it was able to transcend the inner city, becoming a global phenomenon. And just think, it started off as something for friends and family. Or as they say around the way, “A little sumpin sumpin for my peeps.”

The funny thing is that when I started making solo saxophone recordings, I thought they would only be appreciated by other saxophonists, specifically soprano players; however, much to my surprise, I found that it attracted listeners from many instruments and disciplines: pianists, drummers, dancers, writers, photographers, you name it. Which goes back to my original point. I never thought about appealing to any of these people when starting out. To be honest, if there were ten saxophonists who were really into what I was doing, that would have been fine—at least for a while, anyway.

And as marketing guru Seth Godin says, “If those ten people tell ten people, and those then people tell ten people,” then you’ve got yourself an audience.

So just let me end with this: Everything you do does not have to connect with millions to be legitimate. It doesn't always have to be about creating a huge following; creating a small family can be just as satisfying. And when you get right down to it, what you do artistically really only needs to connect with you. And if you happen to bring a few people along the way, even better. If not, just be happy with the fact that you are happy.

Five (5) Inspiring Quotes on Originality

2013-01-18T08:26:00.001-08:00

Here are some inspiring quotes that I’ve collected over the years. I’ve always loved how a quote can sum up in a few words, what otherwise might take several paragraphs to say--and what might take a life time to figure out. These particular quotes address the topic of originality.

1. "You were born an original. Don't die a copy." ~ John Mason

To understand this quote, just observe any small child. They have such an original take on life and the things around them; however, through conditioning and so-called education, they’re taught to squash their own uniqueness and become like everybody else, unless they’re fortunate enough to be brought up in a creative environment that nurtures their originality. Otherwise, I imagine they’ll find that following the masses will be a more comfortable and less challenging option. Who wouldn’t?

2. “Originality is the art of concealing your sources” - Benjamin Franklin

This quote makes me think of Wayne Shorter. You can always hear that Wayne is influenced by a lot of people, but he rarely makes it too obvious. Even Coltrane referred to Wayne’s ability to conceal his sources as “scrambling them eggs.”. On the opposite end of the spectrum, you have those who quote players that they’ve studied, verbatim, almost as a badge of honor, as though they have more of an informational agenda than an artistic one.

3. "Always be a first-rate version of yourself, not a second-rate version of someone else." ~ Judy Garland

This seems like a no-brainer, but many fail to share this point of view—at least in practice. On a personal level I would never plop down fifteen bucks for CD to hear a second-rate version of one of the masters, no matter how skilled. I rather hear someone with less ability, saying something original and personal, than showing how well they can walk in someone else’s shoes. It’s a more difficult path, but the rewards are much greater for the player, the listener, and the music.

4. “You laugh at me because I am different; I laugh because you are all the same.” Daniel Knode

Being someone who has traveled an unconventional path, at least since the Terence Blanchard days, I’ve certainly endured my share of being frowned upon. Whether it was switching from the tenor to the soprano, forming my group Global Unity, or making solo saxophone recordings, whenever I’ve explained to people what I was working on at that point in time, it was usually greeted with smirks, more often than not. Even though I never coined it quite as succinctly as Daniel Knode, the basic principle of what he’s saying has served as a source of empowerment for me since beginning my unconventional journey.

5. The principle mark of genius is not perfection but originality, the opening of new frontiers. - Arthur Koestler

So many players come to mind when I read this: Miles Davis, Ornette Coleman, Cecil Taylor, Thelonious Monk. When I think of them, perfection is not the first word that comes to mind. However, what they’ve done musically has redefined how we perceive jazz and their respective instruments. You might say that they’re perfection is demonstrated by them being the most perfect representation of themselves that they can be.

Talking Soprano Sax w/ Marcus Strickland

2013-01-10T17:18:00.000-08:00

Saxophonist Marcus Strickland was named the #1 Rising Star in the Soprano Saxophone category in the 60th Annual Downbeat Critics Polls, superseding usual title holders Steve Wilson and Ravi Coltrane. He is by far one of the most in demand young saxophonists on today's music scene. His touring itineraries include the bands of Dave Douglas, Jeff "Tain" Watts, Roy Haynes, Ben Williams, and his brother E. J. And his own critically-acclaimed group Twi-Life has been turning ears since its formation in 2006.

At the tender young age of 33, this Miami, Florida native has already released seven CDs as a leader, most of which on his own label, Strick Muzik. During our Soprano Sax Talk interview he shared his keen insight on playing in trio and quartet settings, his new CD, Triumph of the Heavy, Vol. 1 & 2, and of course, playing the soprano.

Let me first start by asking when you began playing the soprano, and what challenges you encountered, if any?

I first started playing the soprano when I was 13 years old. It will be exactly twenty years ago this coming Christmas. And some of the challenges that I noticed right away was that one, the minutest movements in my embouchure caused intonation problems. It was a very different overtone series from the alto, which I was playing up until that point. And it was hard to get a warm sound out of it, too. I didn't really understand how to overcome this until college.

That's interesting. I experienced some of the same challenges, especially with trying not to move my embouchure. That's why in the beginning stages I could only do long tones. Otherwise my pitch went totally out of the window.

I think I already know this, but remind me again on what kind of soprano you're playing?

I play the Yanagisawa S901. I started playing it in 2001 because I finally had an opportunity to afford a professional horn. I liked that it was custom-made with a soldered tilted neck, and that it was warm and responsive with a lot of character.

   I haven't tried that particular model, but I've heard great things about it. I really like the tone that you get on it. It sounds very even through out the entire range of the instrument, which is not easy to do.

And do you find that you approach playing the soprano differently than the tenor?

Absolutely. I want different things out of them. I want a husky and boastful sound from the tenor, and a soaring and focused sound from the soprano. As a result I approach them differently, while some may approach the soprano as yet another saxophone an octave up.

It's interesting that you mentioned this. I also had similar visions for both instruments. But being that I don't play the tenor anymore, now I try to get that husky and boastful sound on soprano, as well as maintaining its lyrical and soaring qualities.

Marcus, do you find that you practice differently on the soprano?

Definitely. I practice posture on soprano more than tenor. The neck strap and gooseneck of the tenor takes care of most posture challenges that the straight shape of the soprano poses; the tilted neck helps though. I also find that my throat tends to open up more on soprano, which opens up the sound and counters the narrow nasal tendencies of the instrument.

I agree. It's the open throat aspect that makes me feel more connected to the sound. I feel more like I'm singing through the instrument, not being solely focused on trying to produce a sound.

And tell me this, are there any particular things you practice when you find you need to get your soprano chops together in a hurry? Or do you just not ever let them go down?

There have been times when I haven’t played it for a while, and the best way for me to dive back in is by practicing the overtone series. That familiarizes me with any horn that I haven’t played for a while, or at all.

 Yes, overtones are a great sound and embouchure workout. They're our equivalent to the brass player's lip slurs. I call them the corner burners.

And do you find that your soprano approach is different from your approach on tenor?

I treat the soprano as I do other straight woodwinds in a similar register. I don’t like curved sopranos, they tend to sound like high-pitched altos. The posture of the straight soprano also is similar to that of a clarinet, oboe and English horn. And I like to go for an oboe-like timbre in the low register. On tenor I just want to sound like James Brown!

I can certainly relate to that. When I first started playing the soprano, I went out a bought a couple of CDs of classical oboe. I wanted to capture the woodiness of its sound. I think it was a reaction to the fake sounds I was hearing sax players get on the instrument. The tone of the oboe sounded real and authentic. In more recent years, I'm actually trying to get to something even more organic and West African.

And let me ask you this: Being someone who divides his time evenly between the tenor and soprano saxophones, did it take you a while to learn how to go back and forth between them both without it affecting your sound?

I’m still learning to this day how to not let the previous horn affect the current one, but sometimes my embouchure gets the best of me. Then when alto is thrown into the mix, whew... But I have a strong imprint in my mind of how I want each of those horns to sound, and most times I remember how to get that sound. Bottom line, daily practice on all three of them gets ideal results.

This is true. The best remedy is practicing. You have to condition your chops. I actually stopped playing the tenor before I mastered this. And this is not something I would advise to others.

Who are some of your influences on the soprano?

Wayne Shorter, Branford Marsalis, John Coltrane, and soprano opera singers.

I can definitely hear all of them when I hear you play--and Marcus Strickland, of course. And I must say, you are one of the few people I know that plays the soprano with a neck-strap. Why is that?

That was a phase of when I was trying my best to manufacture the same angle each time I picked up the horn. Nowadays, I occasionally use it because the brass clip of my neck strap helps the horn vibrate more, in my opinion.

I’m going to name five soprano players. Tell me how you would describe each of them in one word.

Steve Lacy

eclectic

Wayne Shorter

provocative

Branford Marsalis

warm

Dave Liebman

bright

Jane Ira Bloom

lush

For Liebman, I thought for sure you would have said "intense." But "bright" is accurate, too.

So now, let’s talk about you latest CD. What is the meaning behind the title, Triumph of the Heavy, Vol. 1 and 2?

My fiancee didn't listen to her iPod in the car for a long time after dating me, I finally told her she should put on her iPod for a change. When she did she immediately said, this sounds so light in comparison to the music you play and listen to. So that's where I got the idea for the title of this record. I feel many people out there would have the same reaction after being exposed day after day to music that has depth, after such an immersion the "heavy" will always triumph.

  I tried to speculate what the title meant. And I must say, I wasn't anywhere close to that.

Why did you decide to release it as a double CD, instead of doing a quartet release and then a trio release?

The double CD was the result of me wanting my documentation to catch up with the creativity. I can't stand releasing a CD more than a year after recording it because I am usually on to the next thing. The same happened with Twi-Life.

I agree. The turnaround time is one of the most frustrating aspects of the CD releasing process. But we get off easy compared to filmmakers and writers. It might take a writer 10 years to get a book published. Talking about having patience.

So tell me, how do you approach trio playing differently from quartet playing?

There is an immediate vacuum from the absence of a chordal instrument, and rhythm/space becomes enhanced. It is then that ones use of space and rhythmic/melodic concept is fully revealed and vulnerable if it is not strong. I become a more provocative and reactionary player in the trio format, sort of like burning the candle at both ends. It's exhilarating!

This is true. In a trio setting your survivor's instinct kicks in. You all of the sudden have all of this freedom and responsibility, now having twice as many things to react to. I can certainly understand why it feels exhilarating.

Now in terms of playing the soprano and tenor saxophones in trio settings, what do you feel they offer sonically that’s unique, especially given that the trio configuration is already challenging.

With tenor I feel like a cello striving for distinction from the bass frequencies. The best way to do that is be as melodic as possible. The soprano soars above everything because the register is naturally very distinct from the bass; rhythm becomes even more necessary for me when on soprano in trio setting.

That's a good point. When you take more rhythmic responsibility, the fact that you're working with a lighter sound and higher frequencies doesn't become as much of a hinderance.

And how to long did it take you to bring this album to fruition?

I worked on it from the spring of 2010 to the summer of 2011. And let me also add that double CD sets are expensive, but as physical units, I feel that they sell well because of the novelty.

I can definitely see that. I feel that my solo saxophone CDs do well because of the novelty factor, too. Which shouldn't be surprising, jazz fans have historically been record and CD collectors. They tend to buy recordings that they can also talk about and share with others, several years after. Listening to jazz can be very communal.

In addition to The Triumph of the Heavy, Vol. 1 & 2 being a documentation of your quartet and trio, it's also unique in that the quartet is a studio date and the trio was recorded live at the Firehouse 12 in Connecticut. As far as putting them both together as one comprehensive CD, which did you find more challenging, the studio date or the live one?

They both have their unique challenges: Live recordings are either good or not good, and, hopefully, well recorded. There’s no going back, and the length of each track can easily be too long for airplay. Studio recordings can take as long as I am willing to wait, and can be revised as much as I want. But the energy is harder to authentically reproduce with each take. To counter this, I try not to record more than two takes of a song.

That's a good motto. Thelonious Monk embraced that philosophy of recording as well. Anytime you do more than two complete takes, you start to develop too much of an agenda, other than just making great music.

So tell me, what can we expect next from Marcus Strickland?

The return of my Twi-Life group will start on January 11 at the 2013 Winter J*** Fest and January19 at Ginny's Supper Club in Harlem. The new Twi-Life group will be a presentation of how my beat-making and saxophone playing are melding together. There will be surprises for my current as well as my new audiences. Expanding my music to reach a more diverse audience is increasingly what I am about as I also grow and become more diverse. Joining me will be Raydar Ellis (lyrics), Frank Lacy (trombone), Yuki Hirano (keys), Mark Kelley (electric bass) and Charles Haynes (drums).

Sounds like an amazing band!

Before we conclude, do you have any final words of advice for young saxophonists looking to follow in your footsteps?

I advise them to always follow their OWN footsteps and never forget to sing through the instrument, as opposed to playing so many notes!

Well put. And thanks again Marcus for taking time out of your busy schedule to chat with me about the straight horn and, of course, your killing new CD!

Micro-Practicing

2012-12-11T19:57:00.002-08:00

Some of my fondest memories while a student at the Berklee College of Music, were spent in the practice rooms late a night, trying to figure it all out—life as well as music. And I was one of those students who were very diligent and intense about practicing. Some of it was rooted in just the shear desire to get better, some was just plain fear that if I didn’t play very well by the time I graduated, I was going to be one of those starving musicians I’d heard so many horror stories about. To me, it was simple math: Practice + Skills = Employment. I was one of these guys who wouldn’t even fathom putting in less than four hours a day. The stories of Coltrane falling asleep with the horn in his hands served as sources of inspiration throughout my entire collegiate tenure.

To make a long story short: those days are gone. Don’t get me wrong, I still work very hard at music. And I’m just as focused and serious in my forties as I was in my late teens and early twenties. But let's face it, having a full-time teaching position, a small child, a loving wife, and a whole lot of people who depend on me for various things, the only thing I can do consistently in a four hour stretch, is sleep. Hell, even that can be slim pickings at times.

So how does one continue to perfect and hone their craft when you have so little time? The answer is Micro-Practicing. In a nutshell, practicing in short intervals of time.

Few musicians in the mid-career stage of their lives have 4 – 6 hours to practice every day, but everybody has 15 – 20 minutes. And during the time of year when things are really hectic (e.g. Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays, various family functions, etc. ) you may only have 5 – 10 minutes. But whatever the case may be, practicing several times a day in small intervals of time can be just a effective, if not more. We don’t have to always put all of our eggs in one basket, saving everything for the one monster-practice session.

The first thing I’ve noticed about micro practicing is that I’m forced to work on fewer things. If you only have 10 minutes, you’re not going to have twenty different things on your agenda. Chances are you’re only going to have one. Having a single thing you’re planning to practice on is really great for your focus. Since you’re not pre-occupied with the next thing you want to practice on, `you can really concentrate and absorb the task at hand on a deeper level. I’ve definitely been guilty of trying to do so much that I ended up not really doing proper justice to anything that I was working on.

When I first started playing jazz, my practice sessions were always very efficient, mainly from default. I just didn’t have that much to work on. I had one lick, pattern, or scale that I’d work on for the entire week, and that was it. And by the end of the week I really knew it. It wasn’t until a few years later, after I had gotten a few things under my fingers that I got into bad habits—meaning I would often just jump from one thing to the next, never really delving deep into anything.

The second thing I've observed about micro-practicing is that it tends to be a lot less stressful. If you only have one thing you’re working on, you tend to be more relaxed than when you're working on a million and one things. Practicing actually becomes fun. I’ve never heard anyone say, “I have such a hectic day today. I have one thing to do.”

The third thing that I like about micro practicing is that I can always remember what I last practiced. There were numerous times where I’d spent two to three hours going from one thing to the next, and the following day, I didn’t remember any of what I had been working on. And if I had to skip a day or two, forget it. Of course, keeping a journal would solve the problem of remembering. Absorbing the material you're working on, however, that’s something that only consistency and time can remedy.

I’ve always love the story from Kenny Werner’s book Effortless Mastery of when Bill Evans was asked how much does he practice, he responded, “As little as possible.” Kenny went on to explain that he didn’t mean that he touches the piano as little as possible, but that he practices as few things as possible. Which I’m sure enabled him to measure his progress, not by quantity of practice, but by quality.

So always remember that you don’t always have to have a three to four hour window of time to get something accomplished. You’ll be amazed of what you can do during a span of time that most would consider a coffee break.

Oral Cavity Manipulation

2012-11-12T20:15:00.000-08:00

I started incorporating this exercise into my practice routine almost eight years ago. And the results have been amazing. It has given me the oral cavity and tongue placement awareness that has afforded to be able to play and hear far beyond the original scoped of the instrument.

It felt very strange in the beginning because it forced me to place my tongue in a very awkward place, which, of course, I later discovered was imperative for playing extended techniques such as multi-phonics and the altissimo.

This exercise requires you to play notes and bend them down a considerable distance, sometimes resembling a police siren. Just to get use to it, I began with C# above the staff—since this is a note that bends more easily than some of the others--and tried to bend it down as far as possible without changing fingerings or moving my embouchure or jaw. As I became more comfortable with the various tongue positions, I soon began noticing an increase in the distance that I was able to bend the pitches before they “broke.

When attempting to bend notes down, flatten the tongue as if to say the syllable “taw.” Try not to move the jaw or embouchure, and allow the throat to remain relaxed. We are better able to control the various placements of the tongue in the oral cavity than we are trying to manipulate the throat. Attempting to open and close the throat usually just creates tension and a restricted airway. Once I had achieved some success with the C#, I gradually moved up by half steps, being certain to accomplish the same degree of pitch bending success with each subsequent note.

“Pitch bending,” as described here, does not exactly imitate the oral cavity positions needed to produce altissimo notes. These exercises do, however, develop the awareness and flexibility necessary for eventual success in the range above F#. Now whatever you do, don’t become frustrated. It may take a while before you’re able to play the exercises in the attachment.

My advice to students is usually: Do what you can and count your blessings. Because when you are able to master this technique, a whole new world will open up to you.

Have fun. And most of all, be patient!

Me, Myself, and I: Reflections on Solo Playing

2012-10-21T19:07:00.000-07:00

Is playing a concert solo without any rhythmic or chordal accompaniment such an unnatural way to perform? As instrumentalists, it’s not like we never play by ourselves. Just think of how much time we spend sitting alone in the practice room or warming up before a gig in solitude. And compare that to the amount of time that a musician spends playing with others during a concert.

A professional jazz musician probably practices in solitude anywhere between one and three hours a day--college students probably a little more. And of course this is going to vary depending on how much he or she performs. Now let’s compare this to the amount of actual playing time during a gig: An average performance in a jazz club lasts anywhere between 45 minutes to an hour per set, and it’s usually two sets per nightly performance. During a one hour performance by a jazz quartet, the average group might play anywhere between five to seven tunes--sometimes fewer, for those particularly inspired moments. During those five to seven tunes, a horn player--including playing the melody, taking an improvised solo, trading fours with the drummer, and playing the melody out—probably plays a total of five minutes per tune. Which averages out to 30 minutes of playing time per set, and 60 minutes for a two-set gig.

Now my point is not to inundate you with averages and percentages, but to demonstrate that when you look at the amount of time that a horn player spends playing alone, compared to playing with others, on average he or she spends twice as much time playing solo or in solitude. Leaving me to conclude that playing solo is a state in which we are equally as comfortable, if not more. Yet, it’s a musical setting few of us get a chance to perform in.

But who knows, maybe one day this will all change. Steve Lacy's vast body of unaccompanied work could be just the tip of the iceberg. It's not such an anomaly is classical music. In fact, it's pretty commonplace. Maybe soon this "ugly duckling" format in jazz will grow up to be a beautiful swan.

Meeting David S. Ware

2012-10-19T18:43:00.000-07:00

The first time I met David S. Ware was in the spring of 1999 in Paris. I can’t remember the name of the festival, I think it was the Banlieues Bleues Festival, but I can’t be sure. He was there with his energy-charged quartet with Matthew Shipp on piano, William Parker on bass, and Guillermo E. Brown, who had just replaced Sussie Ibarra, on drums. We both had new CDs out on Columbia/Sony at the time, so a couple of the record label people from their France division took me to the concert. I was on tour with the Jacky Terrason group, and we just happened to have that particular night off. The timing couldn't have been better.

Before David's group played that evening, there were several free jazz/improvised music groups that went on before him. I remember that a lot of it sounded very weird to me at the time. I hadn’t really gotten into improvised music back then, so for me to listen to esoteric ensembles made up of just two saxophones, or trumpet, cello. and drums, playing noise and texture, and squeaks and squawks, and not caring whether you liked it or not, was way too outside of my post-young-lions comfort zone. I would probably dig that type of thing much more now, and in some cases, probably prefer it. You might say it was my first live experience with Euro-free jazz.

When David’s quartet finally played, it probably sounded the most tame of all the bands I heard that night, which is saying a lot considering the raw, unapologetic- recklessness with which his quartet would often swarm the bandstand. But when you consider the fact that they had all of the conventions of a typical jazz group---a melody instrument supported by a rhythm section, they were playing over grooves, forms, and chord changes, in the looses since—they were by far the most conventional group on the bill. And I guess it’s all relative. If that very quartet played at the Village Vanguard, Smalls, or The Jazz Standard, it would have sounded far from "tame."

After the show, one of the label people who was chaperoning me that evening took me back stage to meet him. I remember as we were walking down the dark corridor toward his dressing room, I saw a light at the end of the hall, and from it I could hear a voice speaking very loudly and passionately, as through an altercation was about to transpire. But as we got closer, we realized that it was David. He was prancing about the room, speaking to a small audience of band members, festival workers, and fans about having heard John Coltrane in 1967. Listening to the passion with which spoke about Coltrane's music made me envious that I never got a chance to experience the spirituality and the intensity of his music live. Even thirty years after, David was still speaking about it as though he had just heard him the night before. He kept saying, almost as a chant,
"John Coltrane. 1967. I was there. Don’t tell me. I was there. 1967.” It was like someone remembering meeting a messiah. Someone who after meeting once, totally changed your life. It reminded me of when I was growing up in Virginia, and I used to witness people in the church find Jesus during the Sunday morning service.

Hearing him speak this way, even three decades later, you get an insight into how Coltrane’s music, particularly from the album Expression, recorded months before his death, shaped David’s aesthetic. This recording with Pharoah Sanders, Jimmy Garrison, Rashied Ali, and Alice Coltrane, was by far some of his most spiritually reaching music. In some ways, it bypassed much of the complexity found in a lot of his earlier work. It has the calmness, tranquility, and contentedness of someone who has finally found peace with himself, and was ready to take that long-awaited journey home.

After David had come out of his Coltrane-induced trance, we were finally introduced. And when he found out that we were both on the same label, his eyes developed a little sparkle of interest. He told me that Branford Marsalis, who was the acting A & R person at the time, and who was one of the people instrumental in signing us, gave him a stack of CDs of new Columba/Sony releases.. He said that he hadn’t yet heard mine, but he was looking forward to checking it out.

Unfortunately, our paths never did cross again after meeting him on that memorable evening. However, his colorful spirit and uninhibited music will be forever engraved in my memory. His imposing height, his wardrobe of African garb and basketball sneakers, the cryptic-like metaphors he used when talking about music, his slow and confident walk with a slight limp, the way he would canvass the room with his eyes, as though he was trying to size up everything and everyone in his periphery, it all symbolized a man who was as individualistic off the bandstand as he was on. Matthew Shipp summed it up best when he said that David was "the last of the Mohicans." And I’m sure wherever his spirit is now, he’s impacting everyone and everything along the way, the way he impacted all who stood in his dressing room that night, the way Coltrane obviously impacted him during that momentous concert in 1967. R.I.P.

Keep it Simple

2012-10-14T17:26:00.001-07:00

One of my favorite jokes is the one about the two tabla players: the guru and the disciple. One day while the disciple was playing for the guru, trying to show off his technical prowess in 15/8 time, the guru being unimpressed, stopped him abruptly and scolded him, saying “ Quit playing all of this fancy crap and just lay down the & of 7 and 15.”

Now the moral of the story is “keep it simple,” no matter how complicated the circumstance. Which seems to be easier said than done. Whenever I’m conducting a master class or directing a jazz ensemble, I’m always amazed at the difficulty students have playing simple ideas. It's as though anything that's obvious or easily recognizable is not worth playing. That way of thinking could not be further from the truth. It's the easy to recognize and easy to play types of ideas that grounds the music. It provides a neutral territory for everyone to musically convene. If the basic premise of jazz is that the sum of the whole is greater than the sum of the parts, then our job as soloists and accompanists is to make everyone comfortable. It's OK to push your fellow man, but you have to be careful not to knock him over.

As I get older, I find myself using space a lot more and playing fewer complicated ideas. It can be pretty humbling to find that your comfort zone isn't as vast and complicated as you thought or hoped it would be. But once you recognize and embrace your limitations, that's when you're truly on your way to getting to your thing. Otherwise, you will embark upon a lifetime journey of hit or miss performances.

So the next time, you decide to go out on a limb like a tight-rope walker from the circus, just remember that the real you is probably down below waiting for you with open arms.

The New York Times Review

2012-10-07T12:27:00.000-07:00

Jazz critic Ben Ratliff gave my new CD, The Art of the Soprano, Vol. 1, a great review in today's New York Times, Arts & Leisure section.

It was nice that he was able to trace the arc of growth between the three solo CDs: Monk Abstractions (2007), Blue Soliloquy (2010) and The Art of the Soprano, Vol. 1 (2012). And let me just say that this is one of the benefits of being a do-it-yourself artist. No label will just sit back and patiently let you work out your thing, over the course of five years, while you make three solo soprano saxophone recordings. And understandably so. Art and commerce don't mix. Sort of like oil and water.

What's really interesting, is that I almost didn't release it. Like with most recordings, after I made this one, I went through Post-Recording-Depression (PRD). This is where after you record it, you think, "Wow, this is a great CD!" Then three-months later, you're wondering how you could have allowed such a tragedy to take place. You start to focus on that one note that was out of tune, that one phrase played slightly out of time, that extra chorus of rambling, that second take, which may have been the better of the two, and the list goes on and on.

So I guess the lesson is: You just never know.

At one point I even told myself--as I tried to rationalize why I should just go ahead and release it--that if it does get trashed, I'll just try to learn from my mistakes and do a better job the next time. When I sent it to Disc Makers, I literally closed my eyes as I dropped it in the mailbox.

I'm glad I didn't listen to Mr. Voice of Doubt. Once again, he would have led me down the wrong path.

From Starving Artist to Tenured Professor

2012-09-25T17:57:00.000-07:00

It's been a long and bumpy road, but I'm happy to say that this will be my first semester of teaching at LIU Brooklyn with tenure. And as itinerant musicians, the whole idea of being in one place for the rest of one's life can seem pretty scary, and downright unlikely--unless, of course, it's a rent-controlled apartment in Manhattan.

When you're awarded tenure nothing magical happens like a halo appearing over your head or the dark clouds beginning to part, allowing the illuminating sun to shine. There was, however, a sense of relief that came from knowing that looking for employment was not something I was going to have to think about for awhile--especially considering how broke I was back in early 2000. I remember searching Craigslist for odd jobs as a part of my daily routine. It was during this period that I had to sell my tenor sax. Dark times, to say the least.

And the fact that I ended up as a tenured university professor after all of this, still leaves me scratching my head in disbelief. For most of my life I had done very little teaching. As a matter of fact, I took one education course while I was at the Berklee College of Music back in the 1980s, and I ended up dropping it after the second week; it was starting to conflict with my rigorous practice routine. As a young student who really wanted to play, the thought of ending up in a classroom with an overhead projector and a pointer stick, was unthinkable.

It really wasn't until the mid-1990s, after I had switched to the soprano that I taught with any regularity. And as you can imagine it was more out of financial need than the need to share my knowledge and wisdom with the youth of tomorrow. I actually used to wish I had a few soprano students. That would have been fun. At the time, I don't think I played it well enough that other sax players felt that they could learn something from studying with me. But most of what I did was teach little kids beginner saxophone at the Brooklyn College Preparatory Center. And that had it's benefits, too. Since I was newly discovering the soprano, I was also dealing a lot with the basics of playing the instrument. So I was able to relate to them in a way that I wouldn't have had I not recently started over myself.

In 2004, saxophonist Pete Yellin, the director of the jazz studies program at LIU Brooklyn at the time, contacted me about taking over his classes as well as directing the jazz ensemble. He was about to go on a well-deserved sabbatical and needed someone to cover for him. And I had almost refused his offer. I would have been teaching in an adjunct faculty capacity, and I only had a bachelor's degree. So the pay rate for someone in my position was very low. I wasn't sure if all of the work and preparation that the job would have required would have been worth it. However, with my wife's insistence, I agreed to take it.

During that time, I was actually doing a lot of classroom teaching. Back in 2003, I started working as a teaching artist for this organization called 144 Music and Art. They used to send out-of-work musicians and artists like myself to elementary and middle schools throughout the five boroughs to teach everything from beginner recorder classes to beginner band. And I was fortunate enough not to have been one of the unlucky "schmucks" who had to teach in Staten Island. Can you imagine living in Brooklyn and having to be in Staten Island to teach at 9:00 AM recorder class? Yikes!

But besides from the steady money, one of the best things that came out of this experience was that they required all of the teachers to attend their monthly classroom teaching seminars, where they would instruct you on everything from developing lesson plans to classroom management. So after having spent a year or so teaching at two schools a day (at times) and attending monthly teaching seminars, I had some serious teaching chops by the time Pete Yellin contacted me.

Since these were college students and I didn't have to tell them to sit down and shut up every five minutes, I was really able to put all of the techniques I had learned through my experience as a teaching artist. And as a result I was really able to hit it off with the students, personally and pedagogically.

One year later, Pete Yellin decided to retire after having given over 20 years of service. And as you can imagine, I was eager to take the position. However, there was some concern. Since I only had a bachelor's degree, the chair of the music program wasn't sure if I would be eligible. But after a few meetings, the dean of the college told him that he would allow me to apply for the position, provided that I agreed to get my master's degree within three years of the date hired, if hired.

With a university position, even if the department heads like you, and want you there, they still by law, have to do a nation-wide search and go through the rigorous ordeal of sifting through dozens of resumes and interviewing numerous candidates. My first interview during one of the earlier rounds was horrible. I was so nervous that my mouth went totally dry. I felt like I had just returned from eating cottonball sandwiches in the Sahara Desert. Not to mention that everything I said was totally incoherent--at least it felt that way. Had they not known me and my work from having taught there, I feel doubtful that I would have advanced to the final round--fortunately I did.

During the last round, the final three candidates, we had to demonstrate our abilities in the classroom. I felt more confident about this part of the interview process, since I had been doing this for the past two years anyway. We had to teach a twenty minute class, which could have been in the style of a rehearsal or a lecture. I strategically chose the teach a lecture. I felt that one, it would show my versatility as a teacher, and two, there were a few non-musicians on the search committee, so I felt they could more easily identify with something that was more along the lines of music appreciation than musical technique.

Besides from playing music, I worked harder on this 20 minute presentation than I had on anything else in my life. I felt that so much was riding on me doing well. Besides, I really bombed my first interview, so I knew that I had to redeem myself. I must have practiced and tweaked it for several hours a day for almost a week. So it goes without saying that I was ready. Even minutes before I was about to present, I was walking through the halls rehearsing what I was going to say. It reminded me of my earlier years of when I used to experiment with stand up comedy. After I finished my presentation, I looked at the smiles on some of the faces of the professors on the search committee and I knew I had knocked it out of the park.

Needless to say, I got the job. And now, after 4 cds, several published articles, a few European tours, numerous committees and meetings, countless final exams and badly written papers graded, one master's degree, six grueling tenure and promotion processes, a twenty pound weight gain, and numerous 5:30 AM subway rides to work, here I am. And being a archetypical workaholic, I'm already plotting on how to go up for full professor.

But first things first. Boys and girls, can you

say, "Sabbatical"?

The Soprano de Africana Suite

2012-09-17T17:47:00.001-07:00

The following excerpt is from the liner notes of The Art of the Soprano, Vol.1

When composing and performing this suite I used a variety of African folk instruments as sources of inspiration: the mbira, the thumb piano from Zimbabwe; the balaphone, a xylophone-like instrument common through out West Africa; and the countless flutes and double reed instruments from indigenous places throughout the African continent as a whole.

By design, West African instruments are made to play simple melodies, usually based on pentatonic scales, with the musical emphasis being on groove, strong rhythm and call and response—contrary to the instrumental virtuosity and harmonic sophistication aesthetic, which is revered in most Western music.

Saxophonist Sonny Rollins said in a recent interview that he finds himself in his later years moving towards an approach that’s more primitive and less conservatory training oriented--referring to his Calypso roots, I imagine. He’s describes it as approaching the instrument the way he did when he was eight years old--that childlike discovery in which you approach things with a certain curiosity, innocence, and fearlessness. Pablo Picasso also spoke of this, saying how it took him four years to learn to paint like Renaissance painter Raphael (Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino), but a lifetime to paint like a child. As artists, it seems to be a natural evolution to return to our primitive, childlike beginnings.

This notion of approaching the instrument from a “primitive” viewpoint served as the basis for many of the tunes in this suite. When trying to come up with ideas, I often asked myself this: If some musician from a small, remote village in West Africa found a soprano, and had no prior knowledge about how it should sound, what would he do with it? And this is what I came up with.

This track is titled "Burkino Faso" from the Soprano de Africana suite.

The Sam Newsome / Ethan Iverson Duo

2012-09-12T12:20:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, September 15, 2012, I’ll be performing with my comrade, pianist Ethan Iverson at the Greenwich House as a part of the "Sound it Out" music series curated by Bradley Bambarger. This will be our second duo gig together, not including the open rehearsal/mini recital we held at his practice loft in Brooklyn last March.

Ethan and I started to appear in each other's peripheries back in the spring of 2010, a few months after the release of my CD, Blue Soliloquy. While I was touring Romania with another piano cohort, Lucian Ban, I received an email from Ethan telling me how much he enjoyed my CD. Of course, I was pleasantly surprised. My first thought initially was, “Hey, he’s the big Bad Plus guy, why does he know about my little solo saxophone CD?” And I never did ask him how he came across it, but I imagined it was the live review by Kevin Whitehead on NPR. And let me just go on record to say that NPR rules! When they did the piece on my CD, I felt like the unknown author getting his book talked about on Oprah!

After a few email exchanges we got together to play in duo and to hang a bit. With Ethan being a big Mal Waldron fan, and my affinity for Steve Lacy, us collaborating seemed almost inevitable. Looking back on our first meeting, I don’t remember actually playing for that long. We were kind of feeling each other out, seeing if there was something there worth exploring. After about an hour or so of trying out different songs and seeing what things he could come up with to go with the extended saxophone techniques I was experimenting with at the time, we mutually agreed that we had something that warranted further investigation.

Bowery Ballroom

Our first gig together, and I mean that loosely, was in the fall of 2010 when Ethan asked me to open for The Bad Plus as a solo act at the Bowery Ballroom, which was a monumental performance for the group as they celebrated their 10-year anniversary together. I must say that that was the largest and the most enthusiastic crowd I had ever performed for solo.

The following clip is from our first official gig together as a duo, which was at Cornelia Street Café on March 2, 2012. This may have been the first piece of the night and definitely one of the more special moments from the gig. And I’m pretty sure this is just one of many more to come.

We hope to see you at the Greenwich House this Saturday.

Enjoy!

Eight Ways to Give Your Soprano Sound More Presence

2012-09-02T17:49:00.000-07:00

1. Develop your lower register:

Without a developed lower register your soprano sound will never have much range nor depth. It’s comparable to listening to your stereo system with no bass, only treble; It always feels like there’s something missing. The lower register is the most masculine and the warmest part of the horn. So by not utilizing it, your voice on the instrument ends up being somewhat incomplete. And I think a lot of this stems from the instrument being viewed and played as an extension of a much larger horn.

2. Integrate multi-phinics into your sonic vocabulary:

Playing multi-phonics is a great way to give weight to your notes. Keeping in mind, of course, that the brashness and harshness of the multi-phonic is not always suitable for more delicate musical settings. It may not always be pretty, but it’s presence will definitely be felt.

3. Alternate between extreme registers:

When you alternate between high and low registers during your solos, you not only play different levels of intensity, but different timbres. And this also keeps you from sounding predictable and monotonous. It can seem somewhat “schizo” in the beginning, but it’s very effective.

4. Utilize the Doppler Effect:

The Doppler effect is a technique where you sway the horn from side to side, or up and down to change the direction in which the listener is hearing the sound. Doing this while sustaining notes in the lower register, especially from Bb1 –D1, helps the notes to sing in an almost surreal like manner. Jane Ira Bloom popularized this technique .

5. Listen to and emulate exotic wind instruments:

Checking out exotic instruments like the ney, musette, or shenai teaches you how to maximize each note. Too often we only play notes as straight tones, not really exploring all of the nuances and timbres available within each note. Since the aforemnentioned instruments are folk instruments, playing chromatic melodies and fast lines aren’t really applicable, which makes timbre exploration even more important.

6. Play without the octave key:

If you play without the octave key from D2 – C3, you can get more harmonics resonating in those notes. The sound, however, becomes a bit more raunchy, so it doesn’t work in every setting. When I'm going for something a bit more raw and organic, I often use this. When I hear Keith Jarrett play the soprano, it sounds like he's doing a lot.

7. Substitute conventional notes with ones from the overtone series:

Practicing your scales using the overtone series is a great way to learn how to use the overtones in a melodic context. Not to mention, it’s great for sound control and intonation.. On the tenor saxophone, Joe Henderson and Michael Brecker used this technique quite a bit, and quite effectively, I might add.

8. Utilize the growl effect:

This is probably one of the first techniques I used when I first started playing the soprano. I think it had to do with the fact that my sound was so squeaky clean, and I desperately wanted to find a way to dirty it up a bit. And since you’re actually growling through the instrument while playing, your sound becomes very intense, which is great for creating drama. I first heard Pharoah Sanders do this on soprano, and I said to myself, “Man, I gotta learn how to do that!”

Check out this track where I'm utilizing numbers 3 and 5.

Blue Monk from Sam Newsome's Blue Soliloquy by Sam Newsome

Living in a Post Scarcity Mentality Jazz Era

2012-08-21T17:22:00.002-07:00

Author Steven R. Covey in his 1989 self-help book The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People discusses the differences in the Scarcity Mentality and Abundance Mentality.

In Mr. Covey’s own words, he wrote:

Most people are deeply scripted in what I call the Scarcity Mentality. They see life as having only so much, as though there were only one pie out there. And if someone were to get a big piece of the pie, it would mean less for everybody else. The Scarcity Mentality is the zero-sum paradigm of life. People with a Scarcity Mentality have a very difficult time-sharing recognition and credit, power or profit – even with those who help in the production. The also have a very hard time being genuinely happy for the success of other people.

The Abundance Mentality, on the other hand, flows out of a deep inner sense of personal worth and security. It is the paradigm that there is plenty out there and enough to spare for everybody. It results in sharing of prestige, of recognition, of profits, of decision-making. It opens possibilities, options, alternatives, and creativity.

The Harper Brothers

As someone who started his professional career in the early nineties, I came onto the jazz scene during what I consider the height of the Scarcity Mentality era. During this period there were only a few ways that musicians saw themselves as being able to make a living playing jazz: One was serving an apprenticeship in the band of some well-established musician, the other was getting signed by a record label.

As far as apprenticeships, in the straight-ahead jazz world, the crème de la crème gig was with drummer Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers. Or as a lot of my peers would say, “the Buhaina gig. ” Sometimes his name was shortened to just “Bu.” And just to throw in a little jazz trivia: Art Blakey was a member of the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community, which was founded in 1889 in India by Mirza Ghulam Ahmad of Qadian. And after converting to Islam, Blakey’s muslim name became Abdullah Ibn Buhaina.

In addition to being a great drummer and bandleader, Blakey was known for launching the careers of many of the jazz greats: Hank Mobley, Bobby Timmons, Wayne Shorter, Lee Morgan, Benny Golson, and many others. And the former messenger who helped to restore Blakey’s popularity in the 1980s was trumpeter Wynton Marsalis. He was later followed by people like Terence Blanchard, Mulgrew Miller, and Donald Harrison--all of whom went on to having successful careers in their own right after having served their apprenticeships with the late the drum master..

Having only a handful of jobs around where players could get discovered and break onto the scene, created a very competitive environment, especially amongst the younger musicians. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t uncommon to get heavily “vibed” by some of the members of Blakey’s band if you happen to be a young musician in the audience with his or her horn. After all, they had to protect their scarce opportunity to build a career for themselves.

There were also a few other gig desirables that became known for nurturing young talent back then: Betty Carter, Horace Silver, Roy Haynes, Nat Adderly, and Tony Williams. And eventually some of the stars of the now defunct Columbia/Sony jazz label went on to bear the torch of giving young upstarts their first opportunity on the national and international stages: Wynton Marsalis, Branford Marsalis, Harry Connick Jr., and Terence Blanchard. And given the amount of musicians in New York at the time, these were not nearly enough opportunities, especially when you consider that it was in the pre-internet, pre-do-it-yourself era. And this fueled the Scarcity Mentality described by Covey where people felt that “there was only one pie out there.”

Getting signed to a record label was another means by which players got noticed by others. Back in those days, musicians had several major and independent label options. Some of the major labels around were RCA Victor, Blue Note, Verve, Warner Brothers, GRP, and Columbia/Sony, just to name a few. And indie labels were also in abundance--especially when you considered some of the active ones out of Japan, Germany, and France. Again, at first glance it seems like a lot of opportunities to get your music recorded. However, when you factor in all of the musicians, not just in New York, but Chicago, Detroit, Los Angeles, New Orleans, Philadelphia, Dallas, Houston, Boston, etc., it's still not enough to harbor all of the budding talent--and this is not even including musicians abroad. So when you put it in its proper perspective it proves to be a breeding ground for Scarcity Mentality. Because once again Scarcity Mentality is all about getting your piece of the pie, then protecting it from others.

Jeff Levenson

During this era, A & R executives and label heads were very powerful people. After all, they held the pie that all of the musicians wanted a piece of--or at least they held the knife that divvied it up. They received numerous demo tape submissions and an equal amount of invitations to live performances. These were the go-to guys.

Now fast forward several years later to the year 2012, only a handful of those aforementioned opportunities for getting discovered and claiming ones stake in the jazz world even exist. The person who’s in a position to employ others is not necessarily the jazz legend who has paid his or her dues serving apprenticeships with the mentors of their time, but business savvy youngsters that have mastered the art of generating angles that draw attention to them.

And this is actually a good thing. Because now we’re in a more democratic era where a few, select gatekeepers do not regulate opportunity for the masses. With the advent of the internet, digital downloads, CD Baby, and the numerous social media networks, opportunity belongs to whoever has the vision and courage to cease it. We are now in an Abundance Mentality era, in which there “is plenty out there and enough to spare for everybody.”

Abundance mentality fosters a much less competitive environment. Let’s take recording CDs for example. Now that all of the opportunities to record are not regulated by a few record company executives, most of whom have their own agendas, we are free to create our own recording opportunities as well as help others find their way. The more do-it-yourself musicians who breakthrough, creatively using today’s mediums to bring wider attention to their music, the more new paradigms are created for others to follow or at least learn from. Whereas during the Scarcity Mentality era, the people who were picked by record companies were looked at as the privileged—the haves in the world of haves and have-nots. Nowadays you can just pick yourself—provided you deem yourself as being worthy. You can even pick others.

Drawing from my personal experience: I could very well only talk about my own music on my blog, and that certainly would be justified. But sharing the music and ideas of fellow soprano players, makes my blog about something much bigger than myself. Now, if I can get all Zen-like on you: “Its much better to see yourself as part of an ocean than just a mere drop of water.”

In conclusion, having experienced the jazz scene in both eras, I can say with certainty that I like being a jazz musician in the Abundance Mentality era much better. Not only are the feelings of competitiveness and envy not as prevalent, but also new opportunities have presented themselves for building strong communities and alliances, creativity, and most of all, happiness.