Serving The Muse: a lesson learned

I had a defining musical experience the summer after my junior year in college, a series of events that had a huge impact on my approach and philosophy. The lessons I learned over those two short weeks have stayed with me throughout my career because I do believe they illustrate a fundamental fact about music....and everything I've observed or learned since has only driven the point home.

The first week, I attended a well-established summer music program for six days of intensive class study with one of the foremost and most influential jazz guitarists in the world. Who it was is peripheral to the story....the relevant part is that the prospect of soaking up some of this man's knowledge drew guitarists from all over the world, all equally devoted to mastering the bebop style of jazz. Now, bebop is, in my opinion, one of the most difficult and complex languages in any genre of music, and I have tremendous respect for any musician on any instrument that can master it. But my interest in this workshop was more to broaden my musical horizons....I knew that this master teacher had worked with other musicians I admired that were not strictly jazzers but creative souls looking for a new approach.

Sadly, the master I had come to see suffered a debilitating illness and was unable to lead the class. The teacher who came in his stead was a wonderful substitute in that he himself had a complete and in-depth knowledge of the style himself and was at the same time probably a better communicator than the sometimes thorny genius we had all come to see. But I'm still relating peripheral details, as you'll see.....while I did get a lot out of the class, the great lesson I learned came later.

I was entering my fourth year of music school, studying classical guitar and practicing three to six hours a day. I was reading the journals of John Cage and Stravinsky and listening to Ornette Coleman and Keith Jarrett. In short, my head was full of high concepts and while I knew I had a lot to learn I felt I was thinking and playing on a highly sophisticated musical plane. But I also had the tendency towards hubris and the sense of invincibility of a young man in his early twenties, and I was about to be put squarely in my place.....by a bunch of middle-aged ex-hippies playing folk music.

I grew up on folk music and always had a love and appreciation for it...I still do. No amount of education will ever change the fact that the Clancy Brothers made me bawl like a baby singing "KillKelly" or that Jean Ritchie's "Black Waters" continues to give me goosebumps. So after my week in the rarified atmosphere of quartal chord voicings, the lydian flat 7 substitution, and post-tonal harmonic extensions, I went to "folk music week" at a summer retreat on Cape Cod. And here's where I learned my lesson: the folkies were better musicians.

Sounds like an audacious statement. Obviously the music they were playing was much simpler. But even though they played songs with three and four chords, they played with an authority that despite my training and supposed greater skill I was unable to match. And even more strikingly, fifteen or twenty people could sit in a circle making music together without stepping on each other. And I'm not talking about fifteen people strumming the same C chord and singing Kum-Ba-Ya.....I'm talking about a group of musicians listening to each other, each choosing their moment to contribute to the whole and then melting seamlessly back into the ensemble. Some able to play five or six instruments with equal authority and ease. Singing spontaneously in three and four and ten-part harmony. Knowing exactly how to listen to each other and blend into a harmonious whole.

Now, don't get me wrong. The masters of bebop and high-concept exploratory jazz who were teaching the first class I attended are musicians of the highest order. They DO possess listening skills and an understanding of harmony that is attained by few musicians in any style. But by and large the aspiring younger players who attended the class did not, myself included....and it was instructive to observe that while most of these guys (and it WAS mostly guys, another little detail that made folkie camp much more pleasant) could play every standard in the Real Book backwards and forwards, they still needed the book to know what to play. And two of them playing together often couldn't keep from stepping all over each other instead of blending to make music together. The ensemble class was a particularly grevious example, with near-cacophony threatening to take over until the instructor (who I hold in very high esteem and absolutely DOES "get it") pulled back the reins.

I don't mean to make a blanket indictment of jazz and jazz musicians. Great jazz players continue to be an inspiration to me, and in my opinion John Coltrane's "A Love Supreme" still stands as one of the most incredible recorded examples of master musicians tuning in to one another and together pushing their explorations into the stratosphere. But the lesson is this: it doesn't matter how many chords or scales you know if you can't listen to someone else play and complement it in some way. Vocabulary without proper context and the means to put it there is useless. I've hired sidemen who possess tremendous skill only to have them completely ruin a gig by overplaying and being more in love with their own ability than with the needs of the song.

Technique and vocabulary are wonderful in that they give you options. But artistry is in how you use what you know. These ideas aren't mutually exclusive but most musicians seem to come down on one side or the other. Here's what I think: technique and vocabulary are meant to function IN THE SERVICE of artistry. In other words, know how to authoritatively use what you've got. Then seek out new information and learn to use that properly. In this way your skills serve your muse instead of dictating your style....and as your abilities grow, your music grows along with them.