(This article was originally published in Saxophone Today, May/June 2015.)
It is my frequent privilege to be invited to give concerts and masterclasses at universities across the United States, and occasionally abroad. I find it particularly satisfying to present a combination of classical/concert styles and some jazz. After giving such a performance, I am often asked the following question: “Are you a classical saxophonist who plays jazz, or a jazz saxophonist who plays classical?” Regular readers might recall that this was what inspired me to propose the theme of this column for Saxophone Today. In the spirit of going beyond boundaries, my answer used to be something like, “When I play jazz, I am a jazz saxophonist. When I play classical music, I am a classical musician.” Over the years, I have grown to question this answer, as the stylistic labels have lost their meanings and they have gathered up more baggage than I care to cart around. What if I’m playing tango, or Norwegian folk songs? Then what? It is certainly flattering to be asked this question, as it implies that I am managing to be convincing in multiple styles, but why should I have this manufactured crisis of identity thrust upon me by an audience member that is all too eager to sort me into the proper bin at the record store? (You do remember record store bins, right? I always laughed when I would find classical recordings by the Marsalis brothers in the jazz bin . . . ) Lately, it has occurred to me that, while I think of myself as wearing the appropriate “hat” for any given style, perhaps it is the exact opposite that has helped me to find my unique way through the stylistic thicket of modern music.
Let Who You Are guide What You Do
I have written in my blog about the benefits of examining practice habits of classical and jazz musicians:
I have written in my blog about the benefits of examining practice habits of classical and jazz musicians:
Using what we know about the tendencies of practice in different genres can help us to balance our overall routines. On a deeper level, I have been reflecting on my larger musical values, and how these priorities transfer to stylistic interpretation and artistic approach in different types of music. This goes beyond wearing so-called hats, and gets into the mind of the musician. Jazz and classical, for lack of better words, become processes, and points of view.
Lately, I have been spending a lot of time working on the music of Bach. I find Bach to be richly rewarding, from the perspective of listening, studying, or performing. I strive for more imaginative ways of interpreting his lines. I try to see the implied harmonies and to unlock the musical truth of the phrasing by dissolving the barlines. I’m always seeking ways of incorporating extended techniques, such as circular breathing and multiphonics, to get closer to the music. I look for tasteful ways of folding some improvisation into my performances, especially with ornamentation and dynamics. This all comes from my “jazz mind.” This is not to say that I am willing to discard the steep classical requirements for playing this music. If anything, the traditional skills necessary to give even a moderately successful performance of most anything by Bach are just the price of admission. It is also completely true that a musician does not need to have any jazz background to find fresh and creative ways to perform Bach. However, my personal background in both styles makes the jazz process an incredibly useful tool in finding a unique perspective. Ultimately, this speaks to who I am.
My Approach to Jazz
On the opposite end of the spectrum, my approach to playing jazz is intrinsically connected to my extensive classical studies. As much as I value having a personal sound, a swinging approach, and imposing chops, I am always thinking about control, phrasing, and intonation. I certainly do not feel that these conservatory values hold me back in any way, or make me play it safe. They help me to create a detailed and personal process of music making. For instance, there was a time when difficulty with playing softly in the low register on tenor forced me to play subtone. After years of classical study, and decades of practice, I have learned to control the bottom of the horn with a full sound, even at a soft dynamic. Left to my own devices, I might have never taken the effort to master this, as I could have easily gotten away with playing subtone most of the time. When jazz musicians had no access to proper teachers, it was often understood that certain technical aspects of the musicianship might suffer, in exchange for a unique personality. (Some of the legendary jazz soloists certainly had problems playing with good pitch!) Today, jazz saxophonists are expected to perform at the highest possible standard, and there are no excuses.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, my approach to playing jazz is intrinsically connected to my extensive classical studies. As much as I value having a personal sound, a swinging approach, and imposing chops, I am always thinking about control, phrasing, and intonation. I certainly do not feel that these conservatory values hold me back in any way, or make me play it safe. They help me to create a detailed and personal process of music making. For instance, there was a time when difficulty with playing softly in the low register on tenor forced me to play subtone. After years of classical study, and decades of practice, I have learned to control the bottom of the horn with a full sound, even at a soft dynamic. Left to my own devices, I might have never taken the effort to master this, as I could have easily gotten away with playing subtone most of the time. When jazz musicians had no access to proper teachers, it was often understood that certain technical aspects of the musicianship might suffer, in exchange for a unique personality. (Some of the legendary jazz soloists certainly had problems playing with good pitch!) Today, jazz saxophonists are expected to perform at the highest possible standard, and there are no excuses.
The Illusion of Polar Opposites
This idea that jazz and classical styles are somehow polar and exclusive of each other is completely artificial. A hungry artist that is willing to put in the time and effort will likely be able to develop a highly personal approach to performing, and blending, everything. The secret recipe is actually pretty simple: experience + imagination + effort + time. For this reason, I require all my jazz students to study a significant amount of classical repertoire, and I strongly encourage my classical students to at least spend some time playing in a big band, even if they don’t ever blossom into jazz soloists. We must always remember that every musical endeavor begins with a profound experience listening to music. Listening fertilizes the imagination, often sparking us into action.
We Never Start From Scratch
As one explores new styles of music, it is absurd to suppose that it is ever possible to start from scratch. We carry our skills and experiences with us, and the imagination must always be free to shed its glorious light on any given situation. We are who we are, and that is a very good thing! We can argue about what it means to be a classical musician playing jazz, or vice versa, but perhaps the best approach is to simply be a great musician that makes great music. Don’t worry about which bin you get sorted into. Instead of trying to think outside the box, just build a bigger box! Practice well. §
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