I tried something new yesterday.
See, I signed up in January for a Jazz Workshop, before I realized I’d be in the middle of buying a house right now. When I started piano lessons last year, it was with the eventual goal of playing jazz and blues. I like jazz. I like blues. And I can’t play them on any of my current instrumentation, and piano is really well-suited.
Well, of course, my piano lessons resulted in me being able to play scales and a few songs, and…. I haven’t played since. Which is not to say that I can’t play, but that it would take me a month or two of practice to get up to speed again. And, of course, I can’t play well. But that’s neither here nor there– I’ve never played piano well.
Anyway, last Tuesday, when I was lying around after the doctor visit and basically scratching and miserable, hoping the prednisone would kick in real soon, I got a phone call. From the jazz workshop teacher. Asking what instrument I play. I kind of vaguely said “Bass clarinet,” even though what I want to play is piano. But I remembered from the description that the jazz workshop was a bit more advanced than my barely-existent piano skills, and at least I’m confident enough on bass clarinet to not make a complete ass of myself.
Note: he did NOT say “Okay, see you later tonight.” Had he done so, I probably would not have missed the first night of the workshop.
I hung up and thought nothing of it until the next day. When I realized I had missed the Santa Cruz STC meeting, at which I was supposed to do a mini-presentation. And then, in looking at my PDA, I found I’d also missed the workshop.
Huh? How did that happen? So I looked everywhere– I’d handwritten in my wall calendar at work that the workshop was starting in April, but put in my PDA as February. I found the receipt– February. ARGH! And no phone number to call and say “sorry I missed it!”
So, anyway. Last night was Chance Number Two for this workshop. Already disconbobulated because of missing last week’s session, and feeling a little unrelated tummy upset, I went down to the Ark School for the workshop.
What do you think when you read “Jazz Workshop” that you can sign up for through the parks and rec department? Do you think, as I did, that there would be some sort of instruction involved? Some kind of “how to play jazz?”
Yeah. Nope. It’s a jam session. It’s a jam session that’s apparently been going on for several years, with about 10 players who all know each other but who were, nonetheless, very welcoming to a new girl with a bass clarinet.
The instructor wasn’t there last night, so I still haven’t met him. I don’t have books– apparently, I’m going to have to buy an illegal book and break my longstanding, personal no-copyright-violation rules. I’ll have to consider whether or not jazz is worth it.
Anyway, I played. I mean, I sucked. But I played. It’s been about 4 years since I played bass clarinet on a regular basis, so I really sucked. I couldn’t remember the keys. I couldn’t remember the notes. I couldn’t remember what a chord was (chords are not very common on bass clarinet, which only plays one note at a time, as a general rule and aspiration).
So, here’s how a jam session goes. Someone picks a song from the illegal book, and then everyone plays it once through with the actual notes and melody and what-not. Then, they go through the tune as many times as they need to for everyone to get a chance at soloing, basically noodling all they like off of the correct key and written chords. After everyone’s had a chance to solo, the actual melody comes back with everyone playing it through a last time, and then boom, you’re done!
Traditionally, when I play bass clarinet, someone hands me a sheet of music that has a bunch of notes on it, and I play them. All of them, preferably in tune and at the right time, though that varies by how much practice I’ve done. I have never had to learn chords for bass clarinet, and in general, improvising is frowned upon in symphonic band music (which is like, orchestra, only with no strings). In dulcimer, I’ve learned a small set of chords, but they’re mostly set up beforehand for me when I tune. In piano, I learned another small set of chords. In Music Theory, which I took in 1991, I learned all the chords, but not as practically applied to any particular instrument.
So when it’s the “go through and solo” time, with everyone going through the song and the harmony people (bass and piano and drums) playing the harmony lines and the soloist noodling away on the chords and jazzing out, I’m sitting there thinking “oh, my god, what the hell have I gotten myself into? AM I INSANE?” And I look at the chords and, since I kind of know that the root of the chord is a “Safe” note to play, I play it.
Bass clarinet is a wonderful instrument. It can be a melody instrument if you want it to be, but it really works best as a support machine. I was waaaaay out of my element last night, playing an instrument I haven’t practiced in years, playing in a style I’ve never played before, and playing to chords that I either don’t remember or know.
But I fell back on the strength of the bass clarinet and, except for when the bassist was playing or the low baritone singer was singing, I played the root of whatever chord we were on, for each of the downbeats. About halfway through the session, I was finally able to make clear that I don’t have any idea of how to solo, and would be perfectly happy not soloing just yet, thanks. After that, the pressure was waaaaay off, and I kicked back, played what I could play, and had fun.
16 Comments
wow. bravo for getting yourself out there and doing it.
i find piano immensely challenging, requiring a different type of focus than i’m used to. i’m able to play songs, but i don’t know HOW. as i’m plyaing them it’s like my fingers are working by magic.
Wow. Music is never like that for me– it’s always a satisfying struggle.
What made me think of you in relation to this whole thing, was your recent explorations into egg painting, and how you were kind of disappointed and outside of your comfort zone with the straightness (or non-straightness) of your lines on the eggs and such, and how incredibly hard and important it is to go to the places where we can’t make a straight line or find the right note.
absolutely. i try so many new crafts and instruments i’m used to sucking.
but i enjoy getting better.
Glad you ended up having fun. Keep at it. Improvisation, like everything else, just requires practice. The more you play, the more you get the feel for it. Remember that simplicity is good. Parts don’t need to be complex. The other thing I mention to people that are learning to improvise is that hardly anything is ever wrong. Repeating something you originally felt was a wrong note can sometimes make it right.
Jumping in and playing is a good way to learn a new genre. Experiment. Have fun. Find what works for you and what you like.
Good luck with it and hope you keep enjoying it.
I often tell people that I’m just playing what’s in my fingers. Muscle memory is often much faster than conscious processing.
My mom used to do egg painting. Make tree ornaments with them, too. Hollowed out and open, too. I think it was something my dad’s mom maybe used to do, also.
I also meant to say . . . Some of the Fake Books are legit.
yeah. i try to write down how i play a drum beat and i can hardly do it even while slowing it down. it’s mostly muscle memory. but at first it was concentration and thinking.
this egg stuff i’m trying now is technically not painting. it’s writing. you write with wax, dye, then write more with wax, then dye. it’s quite neat. one term is pysanky, ukrainian easter eggs. at first i thought it kinda weird and pointless, but i am enjoying learning it now.
of course, that’s also just practice. the more you work at writing down what you’re playing, the better you’re likely to get at it.
it’s one of the good things that are taught in music programs, even if many of the students don’t initially understand the usefulness of it. 
ah, yes. a layered approach. I vaguely remember that.
it’s often neat when you realize that you really do enjoy something new. seeing that you get something out of it that you didn’t originally expect. getting back into sewing was like that for me. creating new pieces was similar to the feeling I get playing the piano and creating there.
i don’t know if that’s the case, in this case. i learned the beat from written notation about a year ago. so i was trying to teach someone else that didn’t learn from that written notation and reverse… package, it for them. i find absolutely no usefulness in writing out the doum, tek, and kas for beats i already know. i find usefulness in practice and combining with other beats. but i’m no expert.
the doumbek is a lot different from any other instrument i’ve learned, though. i play viola, mandolin, guitar, piano… all with varying levels of suck.
and soon to suck at banjo!
In Jr. High, a friend’s father was a musician, and he helped us start sort of a dixieland band – piano, clarinet, trumpet, trombone and drums. We played at different school functions for a couple of years – dances, fashion shows, etc, and actually made a few bucks. Our style wasn’t so much dixieland as improvisation as backing as well as solo. I didn’t know anything about chords then, so my clarinet work involved a lot of “safe notes” and safe keys. My favorite was the blues in B-flat, which we titled things like the “I’ve Got Tears In My Ears From Lying On My Back In My Bed Last Night Crying Over You Blues”.
After not playing for years, I did jam a few times with people, which was fun. But I gave it up for good some years back. Now if I had a good wind controller …
That’s how I play flute and recorder, and now guitar. Piano I’m still having to think about a *lot*.
Yay, sounds like fun, especially for somethign that wasn’t what you expected, on a less-familiar instrument and joining in with old hands at it.. glad it went so well, you’ve clearly got a good grasp of jazz, don’t think I’d have a clue personally, hope you can get back into the swing of things and explore more complex stuff as things progress!
Jazz is the one musical genre that can instantly make me feel “stupid.” One of my oldest, dearest friends majored in Jazz Piano at the New England Conservatory and the minute he starts talking about it my brain turns into tapioca. It’s depressing. I enjoy listening to it, my head just can’t wrap around it as something I could “do.”
Then again, he can’t grasp singing any sort of Operatic music so I suppose we’re even in a sense.
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