Practicing

This past week I've been practicing at least twice as much as my usual average. This is for a number of reasons: 1) I'm trying to learn more music. 2) Recordings of a couple recent gigs really kicked my butt. 3) And I'm just trying to force a dedicated practice schedule into my routine.

The last few days I've been working on some new concepts. Ideas that keep popping in my head while performing, but I'm never able to execute them (see #2 above). The first three days of working on these concepts was like pulling teeth. My own teeth. The patterns were somewhat awkward to play on guitar, there are countless variations that confuse my brain and my fingers, and it has to be played really fast to sound right. It's just supposed to be a flurry of notes--something I hardly do when I improvise but want to have in my bag for the right moments. I stopped and asked myself everyday, "Is this worth it? Will it even sound good?"

This morning it all just clicked, at least after priming the pump a little. I could throw it into the right spots during a solo and it sounds great, exactly how I've been hearing it in my head.

The lesson here is an old one. Don't give up. I talked about it with my buddy Dave today, and he described practicing music as a set of stairs, not a ramp. It's a series of walls and plateaus. You bang your head against a wall for a while and then one morning, if you've stuck to it long enough, you'll get up to the next plateau.

If you're a beginner, you face the same obstacles as somebody that's played for 20 years. We're just in different places along an endless staircase. Whether your victory is finally getting that bar chord to sound right or you've finally mastered your melodic minor modes, we can all relate to each other. Keep putting in the hours.

Music Mileage

I spent a great deal of last weekend writing an article for MusicianWages.com. It felt like it was sucking the life out of me because the whole time I was trying to find the right words, I felt like I should have been playing guitar. The article is really just about getting to work. Tackling those things that seem impossible, or finally doing the small, simple tasks that you put off just because they take time.

I used to be a competitive distance runner, and sometimes getting up at 5 to get an extra few miles in before class seemed like a waste of energy, but no matter how bad I felt on the run, I knew I was getting better than the guys that were sleeping in. It's not always about running faster than the competition, it's about running more. As long as you're putting in the miles, you'll see results.

Textures, Pt. 1

My latest kick in writing or playing music has been experimenting with textures. This actually isn't a new thing, but I'm spending more time at home, on my own, trying to figure out ways to play the same passage differently.

For starters, a song needs to be good. If your tune is lame in it's most naked form, it's going to be lame no matter what smoke and mirrors you apply. My yard stick is my wife. If I write a tune for my trio and have been honing the melody for a while, and then hear her humming it later that night, mission accomplished.

The next step is adding texture. How can I make the "A" section sound different from the "B" section? Do I need a bridge or vamp to add more interest? Who plays the melody? Is it doubled? Is everybody playing?

Since my trio is basically an electric jazz ensemble, many of our textures happen on the spot, but I try to write some of it into the music. I think one of the problems a lot of people have with jazz music is that it kind of sounds the same to them start to finish. The same instruments and sounds and feel basically the whole time. It's really easy for someone like me to forget about this perspective because my ear picks up on the other things happening. Specifically, what the soloist is doing.

When it comes to the other music I make, very specific textures play a larger role. Take, for example, a chord progression of G to D. Repeat. Ad nauseum. There are many great songs written with these exact two chords. Lyrics and melody definitely create interest, but what can you do to pull it away from the Kumbaya-fireside-I-learned-this-song-from-online-tabs sound?

A lot.

First, take stock of how the song is performed. Most of the time I'm playing with somebody else who can play guitar and sing. I can play a variety of instruments, sometimes at the same time. At least in theory, it's physically possible. I've got some practicing to do.

But I always start with what I do best, the guitar. I start with playing inner voices on the guitar. Then it's a matter of rhythm and attack. Fingers or pick? Strum or pluck simultaneously?

Next comes tone. Acoustic or electric guitar? There are many ways to change your tone before using various effects pedals, so I do whatever I can with a straight, clean tone (the fewer effects I use, the less I have to drag to the gig!). Right and left hand position make a huge difference here.

With your left hand (or whichever you use on the fretboard) the further up the neck you voice a chord, the shorter the string becomes. I call this choking up, like a baseball player. But if your other guitar player is playing in a lower position on the neck, choking up will create a distinctive tone and prevent the music from getting too muddy.

Your right hand has even more control. Pick close to the bridge and the tone gets "tinny" while the picking close to or even over the frets produces a "warmer" tone. You can also change your angle of attack by flat picking or using the edge of the pick for a smoother release. I try to maintain my fingernails on my right hand, which has come in handy many time. If I shape them right, it's like having five guitar picks. Each has it's own tonal character as well, just because they grow differently. This is where some classical chops come in handy, even though I rarely play classical music.

I'll expand further on effects and other instruments I've found helpful in future posts. For now, just playing with an acoustic guitar should keep you busy!

Playing Rests

In jazz folklore there's a fable-esque story where John Coltrane comes off stage after playing one of his legendary long 'sheets of sound' solos during a set with Miles Davis' band, and tells his boss something like, "I just don't know how to end my solos." Miles response: "Try taking the horn out of your mouth."

We're not all blessed with the endless ideas and technical mastery of Coltrane, but this is good advice for everyone. I remember a guitar teacher once forcing me to allow a bar of rest every four bars in my solo. It was hard, because letting go and knowing how to end your phrase before you begin takes concentration. But with this exercise, my improvisation grew by leaps and bounds.

Playing rests typically means NOT PLAYING. But for guitarists or pianists, it can also mean comping for yourself between phrases. Listen to Wes Montgomery. He is almost constantly playing, yet he throws repetitive riff-like chord patterns between phrases, as if a big band horn section is playing backgrounds to his solo. Or listen to Bill Evans play solo piano. He might play a long line with his right hand, but as soon as he ends his phrase, his left hand drops in for a chord or two before the next line begins.

Here are just a few exercises you can do to get better at playing rests:

1) Transcribe. Along with learning how to play over chord changes, learn when to not play.

2) Trade fours. Get with a buddy and play call and response. A great way to limit your phrases to smaller chunks of music.

3) Record yourself. Nearly every time I hear a live recording of myself, the first thought that comes to mind is, "Man, I need to play less!" It's a lifelong quest to find the right balance.