From Asheville, North Carolina, the Fred Whiskin Trio, featuring the incomparable Bob Belmont on guitar. Bob’s a buddy of mine. We met at the Aebersold workshop a couple of years ago and have stayed in touch since then. We got together in Louiville for a jam last summer. His strong, clean comping and solo lines are a delight to interact with.
I get a monthly newsletter in my e-mail called “Your Jazz Guitar Spin.” It’s from an English guitarist named Chris Standring.
In the September edition, he addresses the issue of what makes a player have good days and bad days. He raises a lot of noteworthy points, such as the fact that festival environments, with their tightly scheduled lineups, big stages with iffy sound systems and big crowds, are more of a strictly-business-type gig, as opposed to small clubs, where you can really lose yourself in the music. He also talks about the phenomenon of observing yourself while you’re playing, and how it can make those moments when something didn’t work right not seem like such a big deal, and those ones when an idea comes to life a time to explore.
I know I’m getting better at that. I come upon something during a solo - a sequence or repetition-type phrase, or an unexpected discovery about the harmonic possibilities of the underlying chord changes - and I can now recognize it in real time and take it somewhere.
It all comes from burning those fundamentals into your brain, though, I’m firmly convinced. The older I get, the more I see that scale exercises and arpeggios are far from just doo-dah activity. There’s a treasure trove of flavor in those notes!
These days I’m doing my standing Saturday-night gig on the patio at hotel Indigo solo. Management wanted to cut the cost of the music program (one of life’s inevitabilities), and, while I miss playing with great associates like keyboardist Daryl Spurlock, bassist Robert Hay-Smith, and multi-instrumentalist Tim Tryon, it’s no skin off my nose financially. They cut the fee in half, and I take it all home.
What it has done is spur me to re-incorporate vocals into my performing activities. For many years, that was mainly what I did, and the guitar, if I played it at all, was secondary. In fact, not having a PA but wanting to keep playing after the last band in which someone else had one was the impetus for honing my guitar chops some years back. That story is well documented at my main site. I went to the Aebersold workshop for four years in a row. I woodshedded hours a day. I came to see my activites as mainly centered around jazz guitar.
About a week and a half ago, I bought a PA, a Peavey Escort. It’s a cute little unit. The speakers, stands, cable, mike and mixer all go back into this compact arrangement resembling a slightly oversized suitcase.
This is my big chance to define what I do more broadly. I still have the jazz-guitar gigs, such as tomorrow night at Fork at 532 with violinist Carolyn Dutton, but what I shall play at solo shows becomes a delicious question to ponder.
What I’ve been doing so far (this is my fifth week doing the solo gig; I rented a PA the first three times) is trotting out some chestnuts from some of my favorite blues composers. I’m doing several songs by Percy Mayfield. He was one of the Texas people, like T-Bone Walker, Amos Milburn, Big Mama Thornton and Illinois Jacquet, who came to Los Angeles in the middle of the last century to establish themselves in the venues along Central Avenue and record for labels such as Specialty, Modern and Imperial. For the first two years of his recording career, he was marketed as a dreamboat for black housewives. He focused more on songwriting after being disfigured in a 1952 car wreck. Several of his compositions have become staples of the blues repertoire. Probably his best-known work is “Hit The Road Jack.” I don’t do that, but I perform “Please Send me Someone To Love,” “What A Fool I Was,” and “Never No More.” I also do numbers by the great 1930s Indianapolis pianist Leroy Carr, as well as, of course, the Chicago bassist Willie Dixon.
It’s been ages since I wrote a good old song. I wonder if I didn’t get so immersed in the esoteric fine points of learning jazz guitar - bebop scales, walking bass, chord-melody voice leading, modal explorations - that I lost touch, to some degree, with the overall context in which that stuff developed.
This is something I address in a fictional way in my novel, High C at the Sunset Terrace. Neither R&B nor modern jazz developed in a vacuum. Quite the contrary: A look at the week-by-week schedule of acts booked into the Sunset Terrace Ballroom, for instance, from the late 1940s through the 50s indicates a rich mix: Charlie Parker, T-Bone Walker, Dinah Washington, Lloyd Price, The Clovers, Dexter Gordon.
It’s this overall strain of unmistakably American music that I’ve always really been about.
I guess all this thinking in public is just my way of lighting a fire under my tail end. I’ve been concentrating on craft for years now. It’s time to do some creating.
Age 93 and still holding down a standing Monday night gig at 51st and Broadway. He played the heads to most tunes and took a few solos. Great trio behind him.
The kickoff to Fork at 532’s music program was an unqualified success. (That’s the new wine bar in the downtown of the city where I live, Columbus, Indiana.) The sound violinist Carolyn Dutton and I have fashioned works well there. I think the plan is for us to appear there every other Friday.
Then, starting this next Saturday, I’ll be at the new Hotel Indigo, also in the downtown of my ciity. For the first outing there, I’ll be with keyboardist Daryl Spurlock. He’s an old bud (as in back to the tenth grade, during the Nixon era). When he moved back to Indiana from Seattle four years ago, we hooked back up. He’s playing keys on several of the sound clips over at my main site. We’ve done jazz gigs, but the Indigo manager wants us to do blues and soul, a la “It Could Be That Way,” ironically, the only tune on my sound clips page on which somebody else is playing keys. Very doable. Daryl has been playing lots of blues up in Indy lately, with Governor Davis and the like.
With gas prices in the statospheric range, it sure is nice to have some steady work within blocks of home. Major thanks to the Great I AM.
Had dinner with some friends at Farm-Bloomington last night and got a look at the Root Cellar, the downstairs music venue where violinist Carolyn Dutton and I will be playing Thursday, April 24. Cozy place. The stage area has a grotto feel to it, hemmed in as it is by these massive ancient walls. Hope everyone in the area will come out as fill the place. It will be the premier public outing for my new Gretsch arch-top.
Fans and those who have attended my gigs know that I have played a 1976 Gibson Les Paul Black Beauty Custom for years. I got it in 1981, to be exact. I have played it and played it, in fact. Had it refretted six years ago, and it really could use it again now. Has some character-imparting nicks in the finish and it weighs 12 and a half pounds, but it’s been a part of me.
There’s a music store in my city that I patronize frequently, for strings, picks, music stands, etc. From time to time, one of the guys there has had me play various guitars and on a few occasions I’ve been so impressed that I’ve floated the idea of a trade-in. He’s always said, “I’m not even going to go there, man. Your Les Paul is you. You’d regret it.”
Well, Saturday morning, he put this absolutely gorgeous maple-with-sunburst-finish Gretcsh archtop in my arms, a G 5120 SB, with dual-coil pickups and that classic Brigsby whammy bar. I stummed it a few times. He said, “Dude, I’ve never seen that look on your face before!” I played it for about twenty minutes and left to run some errands. About an hour later I came back, Les Paul in hand, and said, “Don’t try to talk me out of this, man.”
It’s a stunningly excellent instrument. Not the first microinch of play in the tuning pegs, no odd sounds. It sounds like an object crafted from wood - so rich and resonant. It’s a gas to just sit there and stum a simple A major bar chord and listen to it ring out.
Practice has become inspiring again. Such a friendly fretboard. Scales and exercises practically play themselves.
I’m not even going to tell any of my musical associates. I’ll just let them be surprised when I take it out of the bag the next time I gig or jam with each of them.
John Abercrombie and Andy LaVerne. The organization on whose board I serve, Jazz From Bloomington, is bringing them to Jazz at the Station, on north Walnut, on April 17.
Remember my link to my Our Brown County article about Lotus Petal Cinema? I’ll be providing music before the 7:30 and 10 PM showings on Sunday night. It’s the theater’s first weekend in business.
Played another great gig with violinist Carolyn Dutton last night. We tried out some tunes that were new for us, and got into some of the spontaneous arranging that can only happen telepathically after playing with someone several times.
I still would like a full working band at some point, but I have to say I’m spoiled by the duo setting. It’s mainly how I’ve performed for the past three years. Some gigs with Carolyn, some with bassist Ron Kadish, some with keyboardist Monika Herzig. Certainly the money thing is part of it. You just plain take home more. The main appeal, though, is the ease and quickness with which synergy can get going. A quick exchange of eye contact to confirm that the other player is going where you think you hear them going. Room for a soloist to take an extra chorus to complete an idea.
There are two main ways to make music. One is to follow a set lead sheet or score and present the listener with a predetermined package for whatever purpose (dancing, enjoyment of a symphony, affirmation of one’s lifestyle of demographic identity), and the other is to call a tune and have that be the basic road map for a conversation fraught with the potential for exciting, unforeseen excursions, inviting the audience to come along for the journey. You get that in concentrated form in the jazz-duo setting.
Intense as always. I went to the weekend session before the week of classes began, which I didn’t do last year, since I’d heard Jamey Aebersold’s pontifications the two previous years, but this time, since I took a guitar student with me, I thought he should get the full effect. Had a gig at a deck party here in town that Friday night, and took Corey(my student) with me to that as well, so we could jump on the interstate right afterward and head to Louisville.
The pictures from evening concerts at Comstock Hall in the U of L School of Music building aren’t real vivid due to lighting, but between the two line-ups in the shots posted, you’re looking at tenor saxophonist Antonio Hart, Steve Allee on piano, Lynn Seaton on bass, David Hazeltine on piano, Jim Rotondi on trumpet, Eric Alexander on alto sax, Rufus Reid on bass, and Colby Enzer on drums. The two gentlemen eating lunch are Marcos Cavalcante, a Brazilian guitarist who lived in Bloomington when earning his PhD at IU and whose admirable dedication is demonstrated by the fact that he comes back up to the Aebersold workshop every year as a student, and Ron Kadish, with whom I gig fairly frequently. The lanky, smiling pianist in the other shot is Harry Pickens, who is a most inspiring motivational speaker as well as possessor of killer chops.
Had some great conversations with various faculty cats. Guitar instructor Fred Hamilton told me about a cool website that I’ve already checked out called Jazz Standards. com. It has this long list of tunes and when you click on one you get the full story of its origins (for instance, did you know that “I’ll Remember April” made its debut in the 1942 Abbott and Costello film Ride ‘Em Cowboy?) as well as a list of subsequent versions and the recordings on which they can be found, and analysis of the song’s form and interesting characteristics. Bassist David Friesen had an interesting long-haul perspective on the jazz life, as well as reminiscences of working with Joe Henderson. David Baker had some cool insights into Wes Montgomery. I told him how thrilled I was that I’d come across the album Fingerpickin’ by Wes in the workshop bookstore. (As usual, I blew a small fortune there on chart and instruction books and classic CDs, which Jamey has for sale at ridiculously cheap prices.) That record was recorded in 1957 in Indianapolis and features a seventeen-year-old Freddie Hubbard’s first appearance on record, as well as Wes’s brothers Monk and Buddy, alto sax man Pookie Johnson, and some other Indy greats. I asked Professor Baker what studio they would have used. He chuckled and said, “Wasn’t no studio. They recorded that at George’s Bar on Indiana Avenue. I was there.”
I was so proud of Corey when his combo performed its recital on Friday afternoon. He held his own with poise and swing. On the way home, he said, “You know one transition I’ve made this week? I went down there as an IT guy with a jazz hobby, and I’m coming home as a jazz guy with a day job!” How’s that for transformation?
In about an hour I’m off to the Jamey Aebersold Summer Jazz Workshop in Louisville. It’s my fourth year. Theory, ear training, combo rehearsal, master classes, faculty concerts. I know I’ll come back wiped out and fried next Friday.
Jamey’s quite a cat. I’d put him in his mid-sixties. Lifelong resident of the greater Louisville area (on the Indiana side of the river). Studied music at IU, taught privately, did some university teaching and then, about forty years ago, put out the first of the Play-Along instruction books which are now the standard worldwide in jazz education, and also put on the first summer workshop. He’s a wiry little guy, ball of fire. Talks a mile a minute all week, seemingly without pausing to catch his breath.
The faculty is world-class. David Baker, Dan Hearle. Rufus Reid, Dave Stryker, Bobby Shew, Jiim Rotondi, Steve Allee, David Hazeltine.
I’ve met people from all over the world - New Zealand, Singapore, France. I didn’t get around to e-mailing any of my buds from past years to see if they were signed up for the same week as me.
I’m taking one of my guitar students this year, a young man who came to a gig last summer and asked me to teach him jazz. Best student I’ve ever had. I can’t wait to see who he gets for his theory teacher, combo facilitator, etc.
I’d love to see jazz re-permeate American music generally, the way it did from about 1920 to 1955. There’s just such joy in honing your chops to the point where you can participate in that high a level of communication. The best jazz is still really all about the swing. You can’t involve your ego when you’re playing really good jazz. Something much richer and finer about you comes to the fore. You are tapping into a lineage that demands your respect, and the irony is that you willingly give it.
I’ll have pix and stories when I get back. May the vast multitude comprising the BN community have a joyous Independence Day. Play some American music, eat a hot dog and, most importantly, read Mr. Jefferson’s thunderous document.
From 1965, the singularly sublime Wes Montgomery.
I know, especially if you’re a guitarist, your temptation will be to watch what his left hand is doing, but pay occasional attention to his right hand. He’s doing all that shit with his thumb! All that thirty-second-note stuff - oh, man! Also look at the offhand way the experience of elan shows up on his face. It’s obvious he’s immensely grateful to his creator for the opportunity to be expressing this, but he’s so supremely cool about it.
Last year, when I did my Sunday-afternoon audition for the Aebersold workshop (which I’ll be attending again next week; more on that soon), the main faculty member who scrutinized me had me do some runs while he played a few II-V7-Is. Afterward he said, “Why don’t you use a pick?” I gave him some mealy-mouthed answer, when the truth was that I’d just plumb forgotten to bring any with me. He said that in jazz one generally is going for a legato feel to one’s lines, and that a pick is generally used. (He did say he liked what I’d played, but that he’d be interested in hearing what it sounded like with a pick.) I wonder if he’s ever seen this stuff.
Wes, man. The best. Not dissing Django or Burrell or Tal Farlow or Barney Kessel or John McLaughlin, but there’s those cats and then there’s the man from the Missile Room.
The booksigning / solo gig at the Figtree Gallery went exceedingly well. Some old friends stopped by (including the guy who gave me my first guitar lessons in the winter of 1968; he doesn’t even keep his own chops up anymore!). I also made some new friends, some of whom recommended to Thomi (the Figtree’s proprietor) that I be given one of the establishment’s Thursday-series spots.
Then I headed over to a birthday party for three of my main musical buds - Monika Herzig, Janiece Jaffe, and Carolyn Dutton, who all had birthdays on the same weekend. They’re also going to be the kickoff act for the Indy Jazzfest this Friday, so those in attendance at the party got a preview of that. Sounds good. If you’re in reasonable proximity to Indy, you ought to avail yourself of their musical magic to start your weekend.
I get a weekly newsletter in my e-mail from a guitar educator named Chis Stranding. Along with occasional charts and exercises and thoughtful, helpful essays on subjects like how to structure your practice time, he provides links to discussions threads on various topics. One from today on the subject of making a living playing jazz is very good. People from small towns and big cities all over the world contributed their experiences and insights.
Some common things that kept coming up:
- the importance of networking
- the value of the Internet
- the way teaching fits nicely as an adjacent income stream
- the question of whether to seek work in other genres, even schlocky ones
All things I think about pretty much daily. I think even enthusiastic listeners, or practioners of other art forms, will find this a stimulating discussion thread.
I’ll be doing a combination book-signing and solo gig at the Fig Tree Gallery and Coffee House in the charming hamlet of Helmsburg, Indiana, in a fertile valley in northern Brown County, about halfway between Bean Blossom and Lake Lemon, on Sunday, June 10, at 1 PM. Counting on the BN faithful to put the word out to all those who like some cultural enrichment with their dark roast and balmy breezes. (I think they may have iced tea, too.)
A couple of pix from Friday night’s gig at Powerhouse Brewing Company’s Columbus Bar. Moi on guitar and the exquisitely lyrical Carolyn Dutton on violin. My buddy Dave C took these shots. Bless his heart, due to the stage setup, there was really no way to get anything other than the back of my head or the music stand obscuring my face.
I was generally pleased with my playing. The only time I really stumbled was on “Good Bait,” which I had even called, but which Carolyn counted off at a daunting tempo. Lesson: You don’t really know a tune until you can handle it no matter how fast it’s counted off.
There were some high points, though. I thought we did a fine job on “Some Day My Prince Will Come” and “Stella By Starlight.” We closed with a funky blues that got a big response.
I get a weekly newsletter in my e-mail from Chris Stranding, a jazz guitarist and instructor, in which in each issue he shares his thoughts on a particular aspect of a player’s growth. Today, he was addressing the matter of finding one’s voice. He says there comes a point when you’re really and truly done with demonstrating the breadth of your knowledge, or how much a particular hero has influenced you, and all that’s left to do is articulate your own vision, your own relationship to the instrument.
He talks about attending a recent Robben Ford masterclass in which Ford said that sometimes you need to “jump right into the deep end.” He related how his first few gigs in Miles Davis’s band were harrowing. That’s nice to know that even the big shots have had their white-knuckle moments onstage.
Stranding also cites John Scofield’s view that every player has limitations on his vocabulary, and that it’s still what you do with that vocabulary. Again, nice to know that even a giant like Scofield senses an upper limit on his chops.
There’s no way around it; the way to keep bumping that limit ever-upward is to play, play, play.
My favorite part of shop talk with the biggies is those little revelations that they’re human, too.
Photos by Robert Pulley
Some pix from last night’s gig. It was the inaugural concert of a series Robert Hay-Smith will be doing approximately monthly on Saturday evenings in the sanctuary of the Unitarian - Universalist Fellowship of Columbus, IN. A great facility for this sort of thing.
It was my first time in a while to be a sideman rather than project leader. The format for these shows consists of a set by a combo doing standards, and then another set by a somewhat different group doing one of the suites in Claude Bolling’s series of jazz-duet suites. Last night the Bolling selection was the Suite for Flute and Jazz Piano, with those duties enchantingly handled by Kathy Dell and Steve Reen respectively.
Our first-set group consisted of moi on guitar, Robert on bass, Monika Herzig on piano, and Louis Morgan on drums. Set list included “Tenor Madness,” “Hello Young Lovers,” “In A Sentimetnal Mood,” and “Someday My Prince Will Come.”
Robert is an Englishman with some interesting credentials. He accompanied the skiffle pioneer Lonnie Donagan on many tour dates back in the day. He was in an incarnation of The New Vaudeville Band, which was basically an aggregation of British studio musicians that had a one-off 1966 novelty hit called “Winchester Cathedral.” A few years ago, he conceived a children’s story about bees and turned it into a musical stage production called Pollen, complete with a charming score and produced it out-of-pocket at the Buskirk-Chumley theater in downtown Bloomington, Indiana. You can hear his bass chops over at my main site, on the Audio Clips page. That’s him on “It Could Be That Way,” a tune from back in my soul-shouting days. Robert has the sort of impish presonality that allows him to get away with the corniest of jokes when emceeing a show like this.
