Jazz Improvisation as a Language

by Mike Metheny

Mike Metheny solos on the EVI in 1994 at

Jardine's Jazz Club in Kansas City, MO.
(Photo by Beverly Rehkop)

At my clinics, workshops, and summer camp classes, I usually begin each

jazz improv session with this question:

"How many of you are studying, or have studied, a foreign language

in school?"

And, of course, most hands are raised.

It then becomes my goal to illustrate how that endeavor is very similar to

learning the language of jazz improvisation. Both have much in common.

I have a hand-out I like to use that breaks this noble journey into three main
parts or "legs," each of which are made up of various essential components.

Part One
a) Technical requirements for respective instruments.
b) Developing aural skills.
c) A study of the vocabulary of jazz improvisation.
d) Many hours of practice.
e) Learning the repertoire.
f) A study of jazz history.
g) Many diverse influences.
Part Two
a) Experience.
b) Instincts.
c) Growth, curiosity, and evolution as a musician.
d) A constant search for a personal musical style.

Part Three
...and the final destination, which is often elusive and reserved for the
elite: An individual musical style or identity used to communicate to
maximum effect with other musicians as well as members of an
audience.

***

The importance of dealing with the technical requirements of our

instruments (and that includes voice) goes without saying. One way or
another, formally or independently, we must achieve a level of freedom and
mastery that enables us to explore the musical possibilities without excessive
concern about chops, fingerings and fundamentals. Keith House, my brilliant
high school teacher in Lee's Summit, MO, always used to say, "Master the
instrument. Don't let it master you."

Concurrent with acquiring technique is the development of strong aural

skills from various ear-training exercises and/or transcription. Today you
can buy books full of ready-made solo transcriptions, but I still suggest
doing it "the old fashioned way." Also, "a picture is worth a thousand
words," as the old saying goes. Just the simple act of listening to great
artistry can do wonders when it comes to charting and navigating the course.

A study of the "vocabulary" of jazz improvisation is where the foreign

language analogy really begins. The more sophisticated your choice of notes
("words") in an improvised solo the more stimulating the dialogue will be.
There's an expression I first heard in college (it could have been directed at
me!): "He plays white note jazz." That's when the note choices tend to stay
safely on the white keys of the piano rather than utilizing hipper upper
structure tensions such as altered 9ths, 11ths and 13ths, the "black keys." It
is when attempting to expand this part of your vocabulary that a better
understanding of chord structures, scales and modes becomes vitally
important. Either by direct academic study or focused ear training and
imitation, this aspect of developing a growing jazz vocabulary is a must.
(A sidebar about imitation. We learn to speak before we learn to read, and
that is because we are around adults whose speech we can imitate. In jazz
our "parents" can be recordings -- or live performances -- of jazz masters
who lead the way by example, which is why constant listening is so crucial.)

And let's not forget about an effective use of space in an improvised solo.
Just like your sentences and paragraphs in spoken conversation have
commas, periods and pauses, so must your jazz solos. "It took me 30 years
to learn what NOT to play" is a favorite quote attributed to Dizzy Gillespie.
And it is a reminder that even the legends have to resist the temptation to run
their words and sentences together and play everything they know, rather
than picking and choosing with measured discretion. (Looking for a role
model here? Miles Davis.)

Many hours of practice is another no-brainer. And for we aspiring jazz

improvisers the advent of the play-alongs has been a blessing. To this day
I'm still coming up with new twists and turns as I practice with some of the
earliest Jamey Aebersold recordings. I strongly recommend that entire
series. (And you only have to pay "the band" once!)

And one more note when it comes to practice in general: I will never forget
something the great trumpeter Doc Severinsen said to me several years ago:
"I figure that between now and the day I die I can always try to improve."
Doc was 70 years old at the time and was still spending many hours a day in
the woodshed. That puts some things into perspective, doesn't it?

Learning the repertoire begs the question: what is the repertoire? For the
purpose of this discussion let's limit it to the blues (in the keys of Bb and F
to start, others eventually), several blues heads ("Freddie Freeloader" and
"Blue Monk" in Bb, "Now's the Time" and "Straight, No Chaser" in F, "All
Blues" in G), and those timeless "standards" that will make anyone's short
list. "Blue Bossa," "All the Things You Are," "Stella By Starlight," "There
Will Never Be Another You," Jobim's greatest hits... Rest assured, if you
plan to sit in at jam sessions, those tunes will be called up. And if you don't
know them your time on the bandstand will be limited. (You might even
have a cymbal thrown at you, if legend is true about a young, unprepared
Charlie Parker.)
Regarding jazz history, I've lost count of all the times I've heard veteran
musicians say, "You must know where the music has been to know where it
is going," or words to that effect. When I was teaching at Berklee 30 years
ago -- a school that is heavily populated by guitar players -- my classroom
students were sometimes surprised to learn (from an eyewitness) that, as a
kid, my brother Pat was a dedicated student of past jazz greats, owning and
studying his first Wes Montgomery records while still in junior high school.
Today's jazz students have the added advantage of living at a time where
most anything you'd ever want to check out can be found on the internet. If
you are just beginning as an improviser, ask your teacher to give you a list of
suggested listening. And make sure it's not limited only to the instrument
you play. I've learned as much, if not more, from non-trumpet players.

Which segues nicely into the importance of having many diverse

influences. Did you know that Charlie Parker was influenced by Igor
Stravinsky? Neither did I until Dr. Billy Taylor (who played with 'Bird)
mentioned it to me. There is a danger of limiting influences to safe and
familiar favorites. Keep an open mind. There are inspiring musicians out
there you haven't heard of yet who will turn your musical life around in
ways you never imagined.

***

Part Two of the journey gets into nebulous areas that have more to do with
the individual musician and his or her cumulative experience than anything
you can get from reading this article or going to Berklee. I think it was the
pianist Bill Evans who once said (I'm paraphrasing), "I'd rather not listen to
anyone under 30. They haven't lived enough life to have anything interesting
to say." Maybe yes, maybe no on that. We've all heard amazing jazz
improvisers who were quite young. But do they bring as much poise, soul
and humanity to the music at 20 as they will at 50 or 60? See above under
"Dizzy Gillespie."

Another way to describe "instinct" could be the term "natural talent," which
gets into murky and somewhat subjective areas. One person's perceived lack
of natural ability could actually be potential genius in disguise waiting to
blossom. That said, there are those among us who clearly have more of the
gift for music than others. (And why is it that the ones most lacking in talent
tend to have the most confidence? Never mind. That's another essay.)
Growth combined with curiosity and evolution is an ongoing process that
never ends, that is if we want to sound fresh for the duration of a career. (See
above under "Doc.") And again it's an individual thing. Without naming
names, think of musicians who peaked at a certain point and never really
grew beyond that. Now think of those who were never satisfied, never
stopped learning, and remained curious explorers 24/7. (See above under
"Pat." Oops, sorry. I just named a name.) I'm recalling the time I had the
pleasure of meeting the great classical French hornist and brass teacher
Philip Farkas. It was the summer of 1992, I was dealing with some chops
issues, and I contacted Mr. Farkas about a lesson, knowing that he was one
of the world's foremost authorities on embouchure. Long story short: At that
time Mr. Farkas was 78 years old, still passionately interested in all forms of
music, and after our three-hour "lesson" -- with me mostly asking him tons
of questions about his amazing life -- he walked me to my car so he could
get a look at the EVI (electronic valve instrument) that was packed in my
trunk. We talked for another half an hour about that, this time with Mr.
Farkas asking all the questions. He died four months later, curious to the
end.

***

What is a personal musical style or "identity?" As easy as it is to list the

elements that comprise it -- tone, touch, note choices, space choices, time,
pitch, vibrato, phrasing, accuracy, influences -- it can be far more difficult to
achieve a recognizable style of one's own.

I'm remembering another saying from my youth that was fairly common
back in the days of turntables: "You can drop a needle on a record and know
who it is after one note." Today you would "drop a laser on a CD," but the
point is still the same. And when you think about the notable stylists who
would be members of that elite group, there aren't that many. Dizzy, Miles,
'Bird, 'Trane, Ella, Sarah, Chet, Clark, Freddie... (interesting that one name is
all we need). And let's not forget Stan Getz, Paul Desmond, Art Farmer, and
all the other one-note needle-droppers who shaped the history of jazz. These
are the icons we still study and enjoy and whose shoes may never be filled.
On some powerful, almost intangible level, each captured the ultimate
essence of jazz as a language, which is to tell a story ("My horn is an
extension of myself," said the Father of Jazz, Louis Armstrong) and to
communicate on the highest level. Not just with the other musicians, but
with those who want to hear what is being expressed. What needs to be
expressed.

"The audience is the fifth member of the quartet," Dave Brubeck once said.
And it is my wish that, as you hone and refine your own take on the
language of jazz, your audiences will be attentive, appreciative and hip, your
musical conversations soulful, uplifting and deep, and your journey
rewarding, worthwhile, and most of all, great fun.

***

Mike Metheny performs on flugelhorn, cornet and EVI in the Kansas City
area. He also spent many years living in Boston where he led his own quartet
and taught at the Berklee College of Music. In addition to being a performer
and educator, Mike is a professional writer and a past editor of JAM, Kansas
City's "Jazz Ambassador Magazine." He has recorded eight solo albums and
has appeared on many others as a sideman.

URLs of possible interest:

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(c) 2009
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