Tales from the Woodshed 9/11/19

First of all, since I’m writing this on 9/11, I just wanted to take a moment to recognize those who lost loved ones on this day 18 years ago. My love and prayers go out to all of you.

Today I want to talk about the balance between technique and musicality. Every great player had a technical mastery of the instrument, so we know that technique is important; but is it possible for technique to hinder our ability to make music? We all know that it’s important to practice patterns and spend time playing in all twelve keys, but is the key to playing great music really nothing more than a solution to a super complex math equation?

I’ll never forget an experience I had with Branford Marsalis. Branford took me under his wing after I played for him during a masterclass at BYU. He could tell I needed help, so he and I swapped e-mail addresses so he could send me recordings. I would then transcribe whatever he sent me and ask him questions periodically. At one point I told him I was taking a Lester Young solo through all twelve keys, to which he replied, “Taking solos through all twelve keys, while popular, will only turn Lester into licks. There is so much more to learn from transcribing great solos, such as where to leave space and how to paint pictures with sound.” This totally changed my perspective on what I should gain not just from transcriptions, but from music as a whole. Learning about music is more than just a hunt for the perfect patterns to play over a 2-5-1; it’s about learning to communicate.

While I admit that I disagree with Branford when it comes to learning things in all twelve keys (I’ve found it quite useful, as has Joshua Redman, among others), I believe he highlights a crucial problem in the jazz community today. It seems a large number of jazz musicians nowadays would rather focus on dazzling technique even if it means sacrificing important elements of the music. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve listened to a saxophone player who played a billion notes without making one musical statement. None of the great players did this! Even Coltrane, who became infamous for playing incredibly complex ideas, was deeply rooted in playing music 100% of the time. Why do so many jazzers nowadays feel it appropriate to send their soul out to lunch and let their fingers do all the work?

I believe this is a problem with how we practice. So many people subscribe to the idea that in order to properly play jazz, we need exercises or patterns to help us become fluent in the language. While these can be helpful, they can lead us down a dangerous road where our goal becomes outdoing our peers rather than making music. Additionally, they have the potential to create a sort of musical tunnel vision where the only thing that can happen in your solo is something you practiced verbatim in the practice room. No one wants to play with a musician who constantly recycles the same stock ideas, any more than we would want to have conversations with people who read from a script. In order for the patterns you play to become part of your music, they need to come out organically. Besides, all of the patterns and exercises people come up with originated from the music, anyway. You’ll be much better off if you know 10,000 great solos than if you know 10,000 patterns.

Now, with all of that said, as I mentioned in the first paragraph, all the great players had a technical mastery of their instrument. However, it was their mastery of the music that has made them endure. Having a flawless technique is something we all strive for, and I see nothing inherently wrong with spending countless hours perfecting and honing one’s craft. To me, the issue is that many players today dedicate hours of mastery to technique without a similar dedication to mastery of the music.

What do you think? How do you address this issue in your playing, teaching, etc.? I would love to hear your thoughts!

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