In Lush Life, the fine biography of Billy Strayhorn by David Hajdu, he describes Strayhorn, still in high school, if I remember right, listening to broadcasts of jazz from New York and then writing down the chords so that his band in a club in Pittsburgh could play them.
Not many of us have such retentive ears. If we did, there would be no need for fakebooks.
But most ordinary mortals do need what are known as charts or lead-sheets. We need to play the melody from written notes and be told what the chord patterns are.
In courses on jazz that I've attended, I was taught how to look at the changes (chords) of a tune and analyze them, so that I'd know what scales to improvise in. You learn, for example, that if you see the following symbol, "C7#5," you know that the chord notes are C-E-G#-Bb, and you can play on a whole-tone scale in the measure where that chord appears. For each chord symbol, you are supposed to learn which modes or other scales can be played over it.
I have very strong resistance to this rather mechanical method of figuring out what notes to play when you're trying to improvise, though I understand its didactic value.
In part my resistance is simple laziness, refusal to spend time at the keyboard with a chart and learn how the chords relate to each other and to the melody. But it's also connected to the aesthetic of jazz, as I understand it. The point of improvising is not to play the right notes but to play expressively what you hear, even if you hear the wrong notes. Arnie Lawrence used to say that a mistake is a gift from God. In the great documentary movie about Blue Note Records, Herbie Hancock mentions a performance of his, when he was accompanying Miles Davis, and he played an absolutely wrong chord. Miles heard it and took the wrong notes that Hancock had played and used them in his improvisation.
When we speak, we don't think: a singular verb in the present tense in English ends in 's.' We just say "ends" and not "end" or "ended" or "ending." Similarly, I can't believe that an improvising musician, in real time, looks at the symbol, "A-7," and thinks, "I can play either in the Dorian or Aeolian mode over that chord." He or she hears what notes work well in that part of the piece and plays them. The explicit thinking comes earlier, when one is learning a piece.
It's definitely useful to practice the modes and to improvise in them. It sharpens the ears. But the real challenge is using those sharper ears.
Incidentally, knowledge of the modes is also relevant to classical music. I've been reading through Haendel's flute sonatas, and I find that knowing about modes helps me understand the harmony underlying Haendel's melodies as I play them.
Not many of us have such retentive ears. If we did, there would be no need for fakebooks.
But most ordinary mortals do need what are known as charts or lead-sheets. We need to play the melody from written notes and be told what the chord patterns are.
In courses on jazz that I've attended, I was taught how to look at the changes (chords) of a tune and analyze them, so that I'd know what scales to improvise in. You learn, for example, that if you see the following symbol, "C7#5," you know that the chord notes are C-E-G#-Bb, and you can play on a whole-tone scale in the measure where that chord appears. For each chord symbol, you are supposed to learn which modes or other scales can be played over it.
I have very strong resistance to this rather mechanical method of figuring out what notes to play when you're trying to improvise, though I understand its didactic value.
In part my resistance is simple laziness, refusal to spend time at the keyboard with a chart and learn how the chords relate to each other and to the melody. But it's also connected to the aesthetic of jazz, as I understand it. The point of improvising is not to play the right notes but to play expressively what you hear, even if you hear the wrong notes. Arnie Lawrence used to say that a mistake is a gift from God. In the great documentary movie about Blue Note Records, Herbie Hancock mentions a performance of his, when he was accompanying Miles Davis, and he played an absolutely wrong chord. Miles heard it and took the wrong notes that Hancock had played and used them in his improvisation.
When we speak, we don't think: a singular verb in the present tense in English ends in 's.' We just say "ends" and not "end" or "ended" or "ending." Similarly, I can't believe that an improvising musician, in real time, looks at the symbol, "A-7," and thinks, "I can play either in the Dorian or Aeolian mode over that chord." He or she hears what notes work well in that part of the piece and plays them. The explicit thinking comes earlier, when one is learning a piece.
It's definitely useful to practice the modes and to improvise in them. It sharpens the ears. But the real challenge is using those sharper ears.
Incidentally, knowledge of the modes is also relevant to classical music. I've been reading through Haendel's flute sonatas, and I find that knowing about modes helps me understand the harmony underlying Haendel's melodies as I play them.
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