Deep Listening
Jazz is unique in the musics of “the West” (really, Europe and the US) because for much of its history, the people making the music learned it aurally. Certainly, many great jazz musicians read music incredibly well, (and some refused to read at all), but from the early days in New Orleans the way to learn the music was to listen, either in person or on record, and imitate.
To put it another way- it’s possible to get a copy of the Hyden Trumpet Concerto, or the Brahms Clarinet Sonata, learn the notes and rhythms, get guidance on how to shape it from a teacher, and perform that piece at a high level. It’s not optimal, I think, but it’s certainly possible.
It’s absolutely, completely impossible to do that in jazz. To understand the brilliance of Louis Armstrong, or Charlie Parker, or Clifford Brown, or Billie Holiday, or… you have to hear it, and try to comprehend what you are hearing.
And to do that you have to listen deeply, which is not the same as just having music on as you do other stuff. And please, I’m not discouraging that. I’ve stumbled upon amazing things when I had something on as I was cooking, or cleaning, or doing homework. But once heard something that excited me, I then had to get to the real work of listening.
(Please note that everything I’m saying can and does apply to listening to all kinds of music. It’s a great aid to learning a part in a symphony or a choral piece. But it’s essential as a jazz musician.)
One thing I find young musicians struggle with, especially in this web-driven moment, is learning how to listen, how to really listen. We as a society are tremendously distracted, and encouraged to be so, our attention constantly whiplashed between what we are doing in real time and what’s on our phone or our computer. I think it’s important to remind ourselves what it is to listen deeply*, and how useful it can be. To that end, I want to make some suggestions about listening for learning, as opposed to having music on. (which, as I said above, is great, but not sufficient)
If you’re going to listen deeply, it has to be the only thing you are doing at that moment. Put your phone in the other room, turn off the TV, whatever. Deep listening can certainly happen with other people- some of the best experiences I’ve had have been listening to records with friends- but that’s the only thing you as a group are doing. Because this kind of listening is learning, the way reading a great book is learning, the way listening to a great lecture is learning. It has to be an experience, as opposed to just something that’s going on while a bunch of other things go on.
Let’s say you find something on a jazz record you really like, and want to learn, not just listen to, learn and perform yourself. There’s a simple, but not easy, process I’ve used. I’ll use the example of John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman’s recording of “My One and Only Love”. I got this tune as a solo feature in an honors band when I was 16. My high school teacher, Les Arbuckle, gave me the following instructions, and they were transformative.
Learn the tune from a lead sheet. Memorize it. (if it’s an improvised solo, transcribe it. More on that soon)
Listen to the whole tune, just taking it all in.
Start to really internalize the way both Coltrane and Hartman (or whomever) personalize the melody- rhythmic variation, inflection, diction, embellishments, etc. Try to “be” those players as much as you can- ape everything they do. This will take several listens.
Listen to the relationship between the lead voice (first saxophone, then singer) and the bass.
Do the same thing with the lead voice and drums, and lead voice and piano.
Then play it, a lot. Play it with the recording, trying to fit your sound inside the sound you’re imitating. Play it by yourself, with a metronome to place it in time, without a metronome to fly free. Play it with your friends, either imitating it real time or using what you’ve learned to start to do your own thing. You dig?
Okay, maybe you read that and say, “that’s too much”. You’re a section player, a second alto or a third trombone in your school jazz band. You may ask “how should I listen”? A fair question, and let me have a crack at it.
Let’s use Duke Ellington’s masterpiece “Harlem Airshaft”, which is in my band’s book this year. Here’s what I’d do:
Listen to the whole tune. Have your part in front of you, but don’t fixate on it. Try to grasp the large scale shape of it- what is Duke trying to do, and how does he do it? And how does your part fit into the bigger picture?
Now look at your part as you listen to the tune. Are you the melody? If not, are you accompanying the melody or a voice of counterpoint? Are you the lead line, or the harmony?
Listen again- where does your part “fit” into the architecture of the composition- in terms of dynamics, phrasing, balance?
Play your part, along with the recording. (And/or, if you can, play with the Jazz at Lincoln Center app, where you can mute and accent various members of the band) Strive to get as close the the performance of the recording as you can.
There’s more but hopefully this gives you a starting point. To summarize, you can’t just listen, you have to listen with intensity. And you have to listen with your instrument, trying to get as close to the original as you can. This is where the real learning happens. Now go for it!
* The term “Deep Listening” comes from the composer/thinker/meditator Pauline Oliveros. (the woman in the photo) Please check her out- I got to hear her ensemble one night in New York, and it no doubt changed my life. The way she talks about music, and how we could relate to it, is profound.
References:
Pauline Oliveros (above)
If you appreciate this material, please consider contributing to Pat’s crowdsourcing fund for his new record, Occasionally!