I’ll admit that I didn’t go out to the Blue Whale to see Bob Reynolds because I knew who he was, because I was familiar with his music, or because I knew he’d been playing with John Mayer. In fact, prior to last week, I’ll admit that I knew very little about him at all until my musician-friend Jacob Guardado began raving about him to me after one of our CalArts jazz classes after a show he’d seen at the Cordial Cafe.

So it was only the result of mere word of mouth that had me sitting in front of Bob Reynolds and a group of jazz musicians — Dennis Hamm (piano), Calvin Turner (bass), and Lemar Carter (drums) — on one of the Blue Whale’s soft plastic preschool-esque cube chairs. As I sat and listened to the band work out last minute pieces of their set, a strangely intimidating host asked me for my ID and marked both of my hands with black slashes — which, regretfully, didn’t seem to do much considering that an unsuspecting man asked to buy me a drink only several minutes later. It was definitely an unusual introduction to the Blue Whale.

It wasn’t until the band began their set that I realized how packed the already small Blue Whale jazz bar was. And rightfully so. Reynolds opened the set with the title track from his recent album, Can’t Wait for Perfect, a laid-back tune with a steady, rolling groove from Hamm on the piano, later joined by a soulfully stretched, simple melody from Reynolds on the tenor saxophone. At this point I was stuck in a trance by the reverberating sound of the group in such a small venue, notebook and pen barely dangling from my fingers, half-forgetting that I was supposed to be documenting something. I’d missed this.

About thirty seconds into the next tune, Jacob began making strange faces at me, impatiently tapping his fingers on his chin as if he was trying to remember something. And then in an a-ha-lightbulb moment, he whispered to me, “It’s Creep! Radiohead! He’s covering Creep!” His sudden excitement was almost unexplainable — but our mutual familiarity with this tune had us almost involuntarily leaned forward.

I’ll admit that even trying to explain in detail how beautifully synced this band was is a daunting task — and it certainly wouldn’t do them enough justice. But I will tell you that I melted at Hamm’s Herbie-esque lines and punching octaves, and the tiny burbles of ideas that were passed on between him and Reynolds.

There’s also a few things that I’ve learned about Reynolds. He’s got a calm and collected presence on stage, casually joking from time to time that they’ve never rehearsed the tune they’re about to play. (Perhaps he seemed especially cool and collected because the last jazz show I’d been to was of Paul Motian at the Village Vanguard. Maybe.) But it’s starkly contrasted once he picks up his saxophone and begins snapping his fingers — Reynolds suddenly becomes adamant and commanding through the tenor sax. Initially, it’s not entirely spontaneous. Many of the tunes open with a repetitive groove from the piano, joined in by Turner and Carter on the bass and drums, and later by Reynolds with the melody. But there’s always a point in each tune (with the exception of the solo-sax piece Reynolds played on his own) where Carter hits a crash and the band escalates in head-explosion-worthy energy and spontaneity — something that’s not captured as much in the new album as it is live.

The more jazz musicians I meet, the more I appreciate musicians like Reynolds — the friendly, open, non-intimidating musician who’s excited to share his work, especially with the younger crowd. In fact, Reynolds set aside some time for me between sets for a quick interview in the corner of the Blue Whale, where he shared a few stories and a few laughs with me. Without further ado, here’s some words from Bob Reynolds.

How did you get started in jazz?

I didn’t know at first that I was getting into jazz. It wasn’t like I had heard jazz music and then decided that I wanted to do it. But I knew I wanted to play music because I wanted to write music – that was my entry into it. I would sit at the piano and I would noodle around – there were sounds in my head and I wanted to figure them out. So I thought if I learned an instrument I’d learn how to play them. But it wasn’t like I had a specific desire to play something – I’d never heard of jazz. I got a saxophone because a neighbor gave it to me. It was that haphazard.

It took a couple years before I heard about jazz. I went to an arts high school in Jacksonville, Florida, because I went to a concert and I heard that high school perform. I saw kids who were about two years older than me just blazing on the sax – I wanted to do that. I really worked backwards – I started playing the sax, and somebody gave me a Kenny G record – like, “Oh, you play the sax, this guy’s famous.” And it literally was Kenny G to Grover Washington to Cannonball Adderley and then to Charlie Parker. I had to work my way backwards, you know, from the shallowest to the most deep musicians.

And that’s jazz, you know? To me jazz is not mine – I can’t claim credit for it. Like Bill Evans said, “Jazz is not a what, it’s a how.” I just wanted to make up my own music. Jazz is really the only musical art form where you can do that.

On introducing others to jazz.

My wife’s dad, who’s a big music lover and a big jazz lover, tried to get her into some Joshua Redman albums all while she was in high school. She had no interest whatsoever, but when she started dating me in college, I took her to see Joshua Redman and his band at a concert – now she’s a fan for life. I was the gateway drug, but I didn’t sell her at the concert – Josh and his band did. I think you need to see some good jazz to really appreciate it. You see that there’s interaction happening – you can’t ever get that from listening to a record. I think you have to see it to appreciate the beauty of what’s going on. It doesn’t mean that all jazz is equal – absolutely not. I think I would favor guys like Joshua Redman, Nicholas Payton, Roy Hargrove, Christian McBride – guys who’ve got funk and soul and blues in their playing more so than the players who are a little bit less root-sy in their playing. I think you’re more likely to find a connection there if you’re totally new to it.

Where do you see jazz headed today?

I think it’s pretty obvious now that the current generation of players are much more interested in embracing all of the influences from folk and pop music to singer-songwriter stuff and indie rock, and people are much more accepting of embracing those influences that are not just jazz. You just don’t hear as many jazz records coming out where people are just playing the same old standards – and maybe it’s cyclical, maybe that’ll come back around in ten years, that’ll be the thing. But I think right now, like the Radiohead song we just did [Reynolds performed a cover of Creep that night], you can appreciate what we do to it that’s different. How do you mix it all together? That’s the challenge.

What’s your advice for the young and aspiring jazz musician?

Show up to everything, meet everybody, and take every gig you can. You never know what’s going to lead to what. Case in point, I met John Mayer at Berklee in a recording session at 2 am that I almost didn’t go to. I was doing a favor for a musical friend to do this recording session from 2:00 to 4:30 in the morning. I did it, and that’s where I met John. Needless to say, that was the beginning of our relationship.

The other thing is that you can’t have a plan B. If you really, really see yourself going the distance, the passion has to be strong enough that there’s no backup plan. Very few people will be lucky, but you’ve got to be full tilt. All in. Totally committed. And people will sense that.

Bob Reynolds’ suggestions for introductory jazz albums:

JOSHUA REDMAN/MOODSWING

PAT METHENY/SPEAKING OF NOW

KENNY GARRETT/SONGBOOK

Thanks again to Bob Reynolds for the music and the words. You can learn more about him at www.bobreynoldsmusic.com.

And thank you to the Blue Whale for the lovely gifts — just for us under-21 folks.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Can’t Wait for Perfect/Bob Reynolds/Can’t Wait for Perfect

This Saturday I’ll be heading out to the Blue Whale, a jazz bar relatively nearby in Little Tokyo (which also means that I’ll be checking one off the bucket list) to hear some live jazz from saxophonist Bob Reynolds, joined by Lemar Carter on drums, Calvin Turner on bass, and Dennis Hamm on keys. Considering that I’d only heard a small bit about some of these musicians before a CAP @ CalArts friend enthusiastically sent me a message about the upcoming show (and also since it’s been a while since I’ve unplugged my earphones and headed out for some live jazz), I’m looking forward to hear something completely new.

It hasn’t struck me until now that most of the venues I’ve visited in the Los Angeles have been the larger, more organized, here’s-your-ticket-your-seat-is-down-the-aisle-to-the-right type of venues, versus the smaller, more intimate ones I’ve been able to visit out in New York City. Which is why I ran into a bit of a surprise when the Blue Whale informed me that the show was a 21+ one — it’s a problem that I haven’t had to give much thought to. It’s understandable that some of these smaller venues in Los Angeles have to comply with outside regulations, but it’s still a shame that there’s already a roadblock — outside of the somewhat lengthy drive up the freeway — that’s between a younger listener and this live jazz show. Luckily, I’ve been able to work things out in a way that doesn’t have me longing for a fake ID, or anything like that. (Scout’s honor!)

There’s been a few other things I’ve been scratching my head at this week. The April issue of Downbeat’s article on women in jazz — Equal Time: On the Strength of Women in Jazz Today, Gender Lines are Finally Being Erased – exuded overly-saccharine optimism (along with a bit of carelessness) for me. I don’t know if it was the “Keep sexy in jazz!” quote at the end of the piece or the statement that the “macho thing in jazz is a dated and outworn notion” at the beginning that might have turned me off a bit too quickly. Of course, these quotes are completely out of context, and I’ve happily retired the magazine and its Marsalis family on the cover to the bottom of my desk drawer until I can read it again with a more open mind. I’ll contemplate this while I sip my kid-friendly Coca-Cola and open my ears to new ideas at the Blue Whale this weekend — more thoughts and explanations to be shared in a later post. I’m more anxious to hear Reynolds and visit the Blue Whale first — two completely new experiences for me. Hope I’ll see you there!

You’ll be able to read a few of Reynolds’ thoughts here after his show this Saturday, but here’s something of his to check out in the meantime. Happy, happy listening.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: I’ll Be Seeing You/Brad Mehldau, Jorge Rossy, Larry Grenadier/The Art of the Trio, Vol. 4: Back at the Vanguard

I recently spent the last few weeks with the Southern California School Band & Orchestra Association‘s All-Southern Jazz All-Stars — selected from about two hundred aspiring student jazz musicians in Southern California this year. It was quite the experience, to say the least, to be able to play with so many incredibly talented jazz musicians from so many different backgrounds — and it’s truly something that I’ll never forget.

Perhaps one of my most memorable experiences with the SCSBOA All-Stars was working with our band director, freelance musician Sal Lozano. In a nutshell, Sal is a woodwind instrumentalist who currently works with a variety of musical groups, including the Gordon Goodwin Big Phat Band and the Dancing With the Stars House Band, as well as a professor of saxophone at Cal State University, Long Beach. Although Sal did keep us in line during our rehearsals, it’s his lightheartedness and patience — as well as the dozens of stories he shared with us — that had me and the rest of the band so reluctant to say goodbye to him at the last show in Anaheim this weekend. I think it’s Sal’s ability to be serious and good-humored at the same time that made these rehearsals so memorable — for instance, I’ll never forget when he asked us to play “Happy Birthday” in eighteen different keys to his friend Tom Kubis over the phone during one of our breaks.

Without further ado, here’s some words from Sal Lozano regarding his experiences with the jazz world, just as he shared with us.

Tell us about your early experiences with music.

Sal: I started in junior high, seventh grade, on the baritone saxophone, and then switched to the alto about a year later. When I got to high school, I kept it going because it was very fun to do – I had a great passion for it – after a while I got a hold of the right equipment and I started studying privately with Greg Adams, and he hipped me to getting the right equipment and things like that. It all began coming together.

The first opportunity I had to play in a band like the SCSBOA Jazz All-Stars was the Jazz All-Stars in 1979. While I was in high school I would also go to Pasadena City College and play in the jazz band there. My friend Alex Iles and I would go over to Pasadena City College on Tuesday nights to work with Gary Foster, the leader of the band. They introduced us to a bunch of different things, and Alex and I would get together at his house and play all the time – playing along with records, finding things to listen to. We’d go to concerts, and I really just grew to really love playing music. And then I got to college – that’s when another world of music was opened to me and I began to really study the saxophone.

What and/or who introduced you to jazz?

Sal: My friend Alex Iles and I started to go to jazz clubs in LA. We went to Dante’s –I heard Super Sax play here – we went to Concerts by the Sea…we just kept at it. Alex would find a record or I would find a record and our parents would take us to Tower Records. We’d have the extra money and we would listen to things. We’d go and hear players play – we sought it out ourselves. At Arcadia High School, it wasn’t there. It had no jazz program; it had just classical studies. So we had to go to some other place.

I just basically fell in love with it. I wanted nothing else to do but to listen to Count Basie, and then eventually, Cannonball Adderley. I’ll never forget the day I was listening to the radio in my sister’s Mustang – it was KBCA 105.1 (now KJAZZ 88.1), and the DJ was a guy named Chuck Niles. I remember this alto player playing, and this was the first time I’d ever done this: I pulled over, and I sat and listened to him. I listened until the better end of his playing, and it just struck me. For that to happen to a high school kid – it really affected me. And Chuck Niles said, “That was Cannonball Adderley.” I don’t remember which tune he did, but it was burning – the time and feel and the swing and it just touched you like crazy. That was in high school.

In college at CSU Long Beach, I worked with John Prince, the head of jazz studies. John Prince was great because he would sing to you. He would sing rhythms to you, and he had such a great sense of swing – it really hit me as to how that felt to do that. Another thing about John is that he wanted us to play. He used to encourage us to not be afraid, and I don’t think I was ever afraid to – I didn’t care if I made a mistake and I made tons of them. I still do.

As a jazz musician, who are some of your influences?

Sal: Like I mentioned before, Cannonball Adderley, then Charlie Parker, Sonny Rollins, Stan Getz, Johnny Hodges, Marshall Royal – the list is going be endless – Clifford Brown, Miles Davis (early Miles Davis, the sextet), Bill Evans, Oscar Peterson, Mel Lewis, Buddy Rich, Sonny Payne, Frank Rosolino, Carl Fontana, Snooky Young, Pepper Adams, Gerry Mulligan, Zoot Sims, Al Cohn. And then more contemporary players, you know, the ones who are around now, and that’s Rick Margitza, Eric Alexander, Chris Potter, Dick Oatts, Jon Gordon, Steve Slagle, John Ellis, Will Vinson, Rich Perry. Like I said, the list is endless. I’m leaving so many out. I’m always listening to players; I’m always searching out things.

How has the jazz world you knew as a younger jazz musician changed to the jazz world today?

Sal: Styles have definitely changed. Back then, here on the west coast, there weren’t too many clubs that I can remember that were into brand new things that were a little more experimental. It was more straight-ahead jazz. I also didn’t know of many places that had jam sessions; not that they weren’t any – I’m sure there were plenty – but I was probably too young to even get into one. You know what I mean? But one thing I noticed is that there are a lot of younger players who are going out and finding out these places to play. There are so many gifted players who know who the legends are. And that’s where it’s at; the younger kids know who the “founding fathers” are and who these musicians were, and how they’re playing and what they’re playing, and all that. To me, there’s a lot of opportunity out there right now. I just didn’t know it back then in Arcadia.

What are your thoughts on jazz today?

Sal: I don’t see the interest in jazz declining whatsoever. I know that we’re still trying to push things through to try to get people to appreciate music in general, especially jazz, because we love it. What I do know in my experience is that there is a feeling sometimes that there are certain types of jazz that people don’t like, and so when somebody tells me, “there’s not a lot of jazz out there,” I tell them, “now, there’s not a lot of jazz that you like.” Now there might be some jazz out there that’s somebody else likes, or there might be some people who love smooth jazz or who love you know, something that’s a little less, well, experimental. But that doesn’t mean to me that jazz is dying.

What’s your advice for the young and aspiring jazz musician?

Sal: It’s a long, long road. The chances of doing things are slimmer than it was when I was growing up. The opportunities are somewhat fewer, yet at the same time, the demands are increasing. You have to be much more well-rounded, and the periphery that you use – your sixth sense – they all have to be up and running. You don’t just go out of college on the road with a big band anymore, there’s none of that. For the long haul, you’re going to go some other way of doing something to make a living – teaching music, working in a music store, working in a production facility as a musician, working in film production, television production, music production – things like that. While you’re pursuing the stuff that you want to do in your music, it’s tough. At the same time, I can’t not say that you need to keep your dream. Keep your dream. If you have an idea of what you want to do, you’ve got do it. You’ve got to go for it one hundred percent as long as you can, as long as you can survive being able to do that.

Man, there’s nothing like it. There’s really nothing like it.

You can learn more about Sal Lozano at his website, www.sallozano.com.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Whisper Not/Tom Warrington, Larry Koonse, and Joe La Barbera/Back Nine

During my sprint to catch a recommended  show at University of the Streets, I shot out this tweet:

To which I got this response from Fully Altered Media:

Although I never got any clarification as to what he was referring to by “youthful innocence” — a term that can be taken in several different ways (and a label I often get in the jazz Twittersphere) — my experience at University of the Streets did clarify something else: there are enormous distinctions between the term jazz club and jazz venue. Otherwise, I’m stumped.

In this case, University of the Streets could hardly be considered a “club” — marked by a modest sign on what was that night a deserted street, University of the Streets was simply a small white door opening to a narrow staircase leading to a cozy little apartment-esque room. It was incredibly intimate, and even more so casual — a few of the musicians waltzed even the moment the set was scheduled to begin, casually throwing jokes at one another as they adjusted the last few music stands and pushed the last few buttons. As I wondered how on earth they were able to get that white baby grand into the room in the first place (I’m aware that it can be taken apart, but the narrowness of the staircase is unforgettable), I sat in my chair next to a plaid-shirted college kid to my right and someone’s grandfather to my left. When I spontaneously attend a show like this, I usually can get an idea of what I’m about to hear based on who I’m sitting next to. For instance, I seemed to be one of the few members of the audience under the age of fifty at the Fred Hersch trio’s Village Vanguard set. On the other hand, I felt a bit more in place in the audience at Vijay Iyer’s Birdland show and the Angel City Jazz Festival.

I initially figured that the diversity of the small audience would tell me little about the Bill McHenry group — but I was deeply corrected. The quartet combined the mellow, down-to-earth sonorities of jazz (likely appreciated by the Fred Hersch audience above) with newer, more experimental sounds (likely appreciated by the Vijay Iyer/ACJF audience above). The mix, however, was far from a happy medium between the two; in fact, it leaned towards the experimental side as the set progressed, ending with a piece imitating and twisting the sounds of a wood thrush. Please take a moment to imagine the child of a tenor saxophone and a wild feathered beast. It’s peculiar, but it’s nothing short of incredible.

Just like the sounds of the Motian septet from the previous post, this is music to think to. This is the music that I’m leaned forward in my seat to, chin resting in hand, captivated. Perhaps it’s a blessing, in this case, that I have little ability in the dancing department — because I recommend listening to McHenry and this group with eyes closed and ears wide open.

Thank you to Ben Waltzer for pointing me in the direction of this show.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Daylight/Taylor Eigsti/Daylight at Midnight

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Being a teenage musician in a place like Los Angeles has got its perks. I’ve got access to the Hollywood Bowl, the Baked Potato, the Monterey Jazz Festival, and the California Institute of the Arts — not to mention access to thousands of musicians associated with LA-based music organizations. Nevertheless, it’s still exciting to meet those people that you only see in websites and magazines; the faces behind the names that show up on the songs that you play every day.

It was on the last Sunday of January that I met Antoinette Perry, the Senior Lecturer of Keyboard Studies at the University of Southern California, for a master class in a home of a quiet suburbian neighborhood. If you know anything about master classes, you’ll know that they can be absolutely frightening — in front of a large, judging audience the student has to perform a piece, knowing that in the next few minutes an intimidating master class instructor will be hovering over her shoulder, exposing tiny mistakes, insisting on minuscule nuances. It’s not one of the most pleasantly exciting things to do.

But my experience with Antoinette Perry was quite the opposite. To tell you the truth, the first thing I noticed about Perry — before her tall, lanky stature and her youthful smile — were her hands. I was nearly infatuated with them. Her fingers were bony, slender, delicate; they stroked the keys of the piano with the grace of a prima ballerina. I’ve constantly tried to justify playing piano with my short, stubby fingers by pulling up names like Thelonius Monk, insisting to myself that he probably didn’t have Rachmaninoff fingers either and could still play a killer B-flat blues — but Perry flat out dissolved those comforting thoughts. Even she noticed that my elbows aren’t even close to being perpendicular with my hands when I play, leaving me in an awkward angle above the piano keys — a realization that she quickly dismissed by hastily moving on to a different topic. It’s a pretty sensitive subject for a compulsively-obsessive pianist like me.

Still, she had fantastic critiques about my performance of Schubert’s Impromptu No. 2 in E-flat Major — everything from inner melodies that needed more emphasis to small fluctuations in pedaling to help me out with my E-flat major scale runs. And Perry was an exciting instructor — as she had me try out her tips with the Schubert, she’d flail her arms wildly in imaginary conducting, passionately singing along. She was definitely a great window into the music program at USC.

(P.S. I later won a $300 scholarship from the local Music Teacher’s Association of California playing the same piece!)

Just as exciting was a clinic with Don Menza, the composer of one of our currently most challenging pieces: Time Check. (Menza’s also the composer of the popular piece Groovin’ Hard.) “You can only play as good as you can play,” he told us in regards to being nervous before a performance, adding, “I talk about this with Sonny [Rollins] all the time.” He only ever took off his shades when he wanted to emphasize a crucial point — putting air through the horn; playing lines together; hitting the drumset with confidence. While Perry was a window into a prospective college, Menza was a window into the past — a place where jazz was a taboo gateway into violence and drugs and alcohol. It seemed like jazz had this fountain-of-youth effect on Menza — as he spoke, he moved his body energetically, visually showing us what he wanted us to do, throwing around in his speech the colloquialisms of a jazz kid from the sixties.

And then there was his saxophone. Before he arrived, we already knew that he’d written and played with Maynard Ferguson’s orchestra and Buddy Rich’s big band; we knew that he was an amazing tenor sax player. But the word amazing is used everywhere in nearly every circumstance imaginable — it can’t even come close to describe what came out of Menza’s horn.

On a concluding note, here’s what I’m failing in an attempt to describe in words:

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Roustabout/Simple Citizens/Me and Miss Lemona K

So now that we’ve talked about Miles Davis and Red Garland, let’s move on to the next member of the Miles Davis Quintet: John Coltrane.

Like Miles Davis, one of Coltrane’s biggest influences was Charlie Parker (he says the first time he heard him play “hit [him] right between the eyes”). Coltrane’s career pretty much began in the ’40s, after Coltrane left the Navy (where he still managed to find a way to play jazz through the Navy jazz band), but it launched after Miles Davis asked him to be a part of the Miles Davis Quintet (Relaxin’/Cookin’/Workin’/Steamin’ with the Miles Davis Quintet) in 1955. Jazz fanatics and casual listeners alike finally got a look at Coltrane’s genius ability when these sessions were released in 1956.

Coltrane’s also a part of the Kind of Blue album — along with saxophonist Cannonball Adderley. What’s especially important here is that Coltrane, surprisingly even more so than Davis, took the modal approach (simpler melody, fewer chords, the use of modes (check this out in So What from the Kind of Blue album — it only uses D and Eb dorian mode), and an overall cooler, more laid-back sound) used in the Kind of Blue album and used it as an inspirations throughout the rest of his career.

I know that Miles Davis could put his own sound into his own words, but Coltrane was kind of the quiet type, like Bill Evans. But lucky for us, jazz critic Ira Gilter managed to sum up Coltrane’s sound into three words: “sheets of sound.” What this basically means is that Coltrane always played a massive amount of notes in a very little amount of time. (There’s a good example of this here.)

Coltrane’s also one of those brave musicians that ventured into the fields of free jazz and avant-jazz — jazz without any real structure or limitations. We’ve got a lot of this in today’s jazz, but back in Coltrane’s time, this genre of jazz was probably one of the strangest (and sometimes even super uncomfortable to listen to). But it’s probably Coltrane’s bebop/hard bop/post-bop where you can hear him at his best.

What you’ll see in a lot of Coltrane’s compositions is that the melody makes the song seems ten times slower than it actually is. Take Giant Steps for example; the melody’s pretty much only two half notes a measure (which makes it sound like it’s in cut time). But this contrast between the simple, slow melody and Coltrane’s complex, one-hundred-mph solos makes him sound even faster. Check this out in this recording of Giant Steps. (Pay special attention to the bass, too.)

Where to start…

ALBUMS:

Workin’/Steamin’/Relaxin’/Cookin’ with the Miles Davis Quintet (all four of them!)

Thelonious Monk with John Coltrane at Carnegie Hall

Blue Train

Giant Steps

My Favorite Things

Impressions

Duke Ellington and John Coltrane

A Love Supreme

SONGS (& WHERE THE MODAL TONE COMES IN):

Giant Steps

A Love Supreme

Moment’s Notice

Acknowledgment

Lazy Bird

Make sure you get around to hearing Coltrane play with musicians Thelonious Monk and Miles Davis. Happy listening!

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Evidence/Thelonious Monk/Jazz Piano Anthology: Bop

I was first introduced to Sonny Rollins through the Community Arts Program (CAP) at CalArts (which I’m so incredibly lucky to have nearby). I was just learning my blues scales then; with a group of about 5 or 6 musicians, we learned the Rollins tune, “Tenor Madness.” It’s a pretty catchy piece in the Bb blues scale.

But anyways, about Sonny Rollins — this saxophonist from the 1950s comes a bit after the bebop era of musicians like Charlie Parker and Monk (although Sonny Rollins was able to play with Monk at the age of 20).

One of Rollins’s most unique accomplishments is the piano-less trio. Although omitting one instrument from a musical group (even a classical group) doesn’t seem like such a big deal, it really is — each instrument in a group like a jazz quartet plays its own role: the piano outlines the chord changes and support the solos, the bass lays down the foundation and keeps the groove, the drums keep the drive and the rhythm, and the soloist (which might be a trumpet, saxophone, etc.) carries the melody. The way Rollins succeeded his piano-less trio was by using his saxophone like a rhythm section instrument during the bass/drum solos. You can check this idea out in these recordings of St. Thomas and  There Will Never Be Another You.

Sonny Rollins is still alive today, unlike many of his contemporaries (i.e. Miles Davis), and he’s turning a ripe age of 79 this coming fall. In fact, he’ll be doing a concert at the Walt Disney Concert Hall on May 16th, 2010 — go check him out! I’d better start saving up money for those tickets. :)

Sonny Rollins’s Standards: 1…St. Thomas. 2…Airegin.(Nigeria spelled backwards, hah) 3…Oleo.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: Czech Suite, Op/39/B93, II. Allegro Grazioso/Antonín Dvořák/Smetana: Má vlast; Dvorak: Symphony No.4

Who is Charlie Parker?

Charlie Parker is bebop. Charlie Parker is saxophone. Charlie Parker is notes everywhere; scales up and down, arpeggios right and left. And Charlie Parker is never, ever ending. Ever. The notes just don’t stop. But you don’t want them to, either.

Charlie’s standards: 1…Billie’s Bounce. 2…Anthropology. 3…Ornithology. 4…Confirmation.

Ever heard the tune Birdland? By Weather Report. If you haven’t, go check it out. Charlie’s nickname, Yardbird, or Bird for short, inspired the name for the New York jazz club, Birdland, which in turn inspired the name for the song.

Charlie Parker → Yardbird → Bird → Birdland, NY → Birdland, Weather Report.

That’s not the only influence he’s made, though. Despite his drug and alcohol abuse, Charlie Parker held a master role in the development of bebop, as well as jazz/style fusion. He made the jazz musician the Jazz Musican; not simply an entertainer, but an intellectual musician and a persistent artist. Parker was a major icon in the Beat Generation of the 1950s, an influence to writers focused on turning away from the American mainstream values (of that time, of course).

Looking for some saxophone to listen to? Listen to Charlie Parker.

Looking for some Charlie Parker to play? Buy the Charlie Parker Omnibook.

I’m still fumbling with the ropes of using lead sheets and fakebooks, but the whole experience is enlightening. Especially when you do it with your musical buddies.

In fact, I’ve been playing with some of my own musical buddies, and we picked up Charlie Parker’s Moose the Mooche the other day. Supposedly it’s supposed to be named after his drug dealer. Fun stuff.

CURRENTLY LISTENING TO: How About You/Compact Jazz/Bill Evans