The speed of sound

Every so often I play in a very large hotel, jazz for eating to in a restaurant where the band is foisted on staff who really don't want it. Although some favourable comments come from diners I think many of them are also perturbed by music that isn't entirely bland, predictable and disembodied; piped as opposed to 'live'.

So what are we doing there? Believe me, I ask myself the same question every time we play. There are two benefits to ourselves, both slightly dubious. One is the money (poor, especially after the agent's removal of 15%) and the other is that in three one-hour sets we can play through the bulk of our repertoire, even tunes that don't often get an airing.

The benefit to the establishment is certainly lost on the senior waiting staff who never greet us on arrival, not even with a glance of recognition, nor return our goodbyes at the end. I can only think we are part of some corporate vision - somehow, dressed up in dinner jackets and bow ties, we go with the decor and pot plants.

Of course I exaggerate when I say the staff don't speak to us. Last time I was spoken to twice in the first number. First the head waitress pointed to the instrument I was playing and, without risking eye contact said
"That one, turn it down."
I duly complied. And a few moments later, while a customer stood with his five year old twins, actually listening (!) the head waiter came flapping his arms and saying
"Too loud, too loud."
(I spent the rest of the evening playing off-mic and as quietly as possible. No one asked me to turn up.)

In fairness, our sound-checking is rudimentary at this type of event, and we usually rely on co-operative staff to give us an indication of sound balance, so on this occasion the clarinet may have been a little shrill. But in the past it has usually been after an up-tempo number that we are asked to turn down. And this brings me to my point.

We are never asked to slow down but to turn down. And this is because fast music is more disturbing to the senses than slow music of the same volume. It is therefore perceived as being louder.

So jobbing musicians everywhere, remember to ascertain the nature of the gig. There are customers who love what we do. And there are customers who believe that, like children, jazz should be seen and not heard.

July's free music game

As regular readers will be aware, a new free music game appears on my website each month. This month's game is called Pot Luck Orchestra and is a sonic exploration of found objects. Fun for all!

Meanwhile, I have been rather quiet lately, not because nothing is happening but because I have yet to get around to blogging about it. I shall rectify this situation in the next few days and share my tales of midsummer madness.

And what better time to plug my other blog which tells the unfolding story of jazz/klezmer outfit Eastern Straynotes ?

Practising scales and technique. A waste of your time?

I confess to being a terrible student when I was a teenager. And among the things I hated most were practising scales, arpeggios and finger exercises. I could never see the point and somehow the assurance that it would make the boring classical music I was forced to play easier to execute gave scant solace.

As an improvising musician, in both jazz and non-jazz contexts, I usually need to know what sound I am going to make next. I am not belittling the use of chance and surprise both in improvisation and as a compositional tool. But if I am trying to support the actions of an actor, who is in turn responding to a live audience, then I need to know exactly how to create the sound I want. And this is where knowing my instrument becomes so important. And, fortunately or otherwise, one of the best ways to get to know an instrument is by practising scales and technical exercises.

However, beware believing them an end in themselves. Jazz, Delicious Hot, Disgusting Cold is the apt title of a song by The Bonzos. When playing a jazz solo, nothing disappoints me more than lifelessly running up and down perfectly executed scales. It's bland, lifeless and says, 'Hey! Listen to me, I have absolutely nothing to say!' It's jazz, disgusting cold. A great jazz solo is made by an inspired blend of imagination and technique. A wide vocabulary alone doesn't make an author but it can help to express meaning with accuracy. Similarly, mastery of an instrument doesn't guarantee a compelling performance but it does allow the performer to play whatever comes into their head. Not for nothing did John Coltrane practise constantly back-stage. You may not like what he played but you have to admire him for striving to express himself with integrity.

I find it far easier to convince my jazz students of the value of scales and arpeggios than I do my classical students. This probably says more about me than either group. But improvisation is composition on the fly and to compose you really need to know the instrument for which you write. Even at the most basic jam session, the better we know our instruments the happier we feel about the music we make.