Bill Stewart

I've been listening to a lot of John Scofield this week, and realized I basically never talk about Bill Stewart here. It's weird, he's on anyone's short list of top living jazz drummers, particularly of those who became known in the past 35 years. As a massively influential drummer, he became well known right between Joey Baron and Brian Blade. 

I first heard him on Scofield's 1991 record Meant To Be, and it was one of those epochal moments, like the first time I heard Dave Weckl— like this undeniably is the new thing. I associated what I was hearing with Roy Haynes, who was getting revived about that time via Pat Metheny's record Question & Answer, and it seemed cool that Stewart seemed to be influenced by him. 

In particular there was one spot where he just played some quarter notes— Big Fun, the track below, at the end of the head— from which I took a big lesson, about using the full range of what you could play, having creative access to all of it. Any time something like that jumps out at you, it's a big deal. 

He definitely seemed like a completely fresh animal, a new generation of player— highly musical, a highly skilled improvisor, clearly with broad tastes, a very sharp musical intellect, and creative with all four limbs. He seemed to be on a new level with all of that, while not being merely amazing.  

He has been massively influential in terms of sound— I'm thinking about his sound on three fairly early recordings, that were very influential on me, at least: Scofield / Meant To Be, Pat Metheny & John Scofield / I Can See Your House From Here, and Joe Lovano / Landmarks. It's a very cute sound, with a cranked snare drum, and high, round-sounding toms and bass drum. It's very clean, pretty, and musical— maybe Jack Dejohnette's sound was the closest recent influence to it. It's so ubuquitous now that it seems inevitable, but the other big people before Stewart were Joey Baron and Jeff Watts, both of whom used bigger bass drums, and had punchy or medium tunings with their toms, respectively. 

His cymbal didn't jump out at me so much, but it's clearly an exemplary sound— a smaller, more transparent K sound than Brian Blade's, the other big recent influence in that area. Youtubers have turned his sound and technique into a meme— of course it came simply through him dealing with a slightly too-light cymbal, a familiar situation: 

And listen: I'm not being disparaging calling his sound cute, it's a particular vibe to me, like Jan Garbarek here:
 

He has a distinctive touch on the snare drum as well— expressed here in a New Orleans-type street beat groove, which was hip “new” thing about that time. Since then it has become an expected regular type of groove in jazz, largely* off the strength of what Stewart was doing with Scofield. 

* - I can't not mention Jeff Watts here, who had the famous recording of Caravan with Wynton Marsalis, and also Terri Lynn Carrington, who played the groove on a previous Scofield record. 

Finally, here's a great interview with him, by Pablo Held— I hadn't listened to it before writing this, and I'm happy to see a couple of my observations confirmed.  

There's a great part about improving time at about 43 minutes in: 

So, I don't know why I don't talk about him much— partly I've been more immersed in older players since I've been writing this site. He's clearly a durable artist, he's doing the real stuff— I'll listen to some players, and they may be great, but their concerns clearly seem different from mine, and I can't sustain a lot of interest. Stewart is not in that category, I'll be listening to him a lot more in coming weeks. 

Very occasional quote of the day: sound and touch

“I’m not happy with my sound at all. I wish I sounded like Art Blakey or Elvin Jones. You have to be born with a certain feel or touch. Blakey had that African sound. It was so physical. Art played on my old Slingerland drums once at Minton’s Playhouse, and they were tuned tight like Max’s. But Art managed to capture his own deep sound on my drums. That’s when I realized it’s really physical.” 

“I try to practice lightly. I played so loud and hard with Miles, and even on some of the gigs I did with Sonny. That’s what they wanted. But now I’m going back to the ’60s, approaching things in a much lighter way. I just don’t think you have to bash. You can get the same intensity without bashing. Billy Higgins proved that. You could feel the tune building with each chorus when he played. You could feel the fire getting hotter without the volume getting louder. That’s what I’m trying to get back to.”

- Al Foster, 2003 Modern Drummer interview by Ken Micallef 

Very occasional quote of the day: a voice of their own

“There's nobody who has a voice of his own that's a fraidy cat.”

- Lester Bowie, 1984 Downbeat Blindfold Test, posted on Twitter by @jazyjef 

Pad practice caveat

As someone who comes from the land of the Tea Party, Glenn Beck, and the rest of that nightmare, it's kind of quaintly Canadian that he calls this a “rant”, but Ted Warren says something very important here, which I've been thinking about a lot since he posted it over a year ago:



Pure chops are experiencing a little bit of a golden age right now, and an increasing number of drummers seem to be viewing the act of playing as purely a matter of muscular training and physics, so it's good to remember that the first guiding principle for all musicians should be the sound you get out of your instrument. Forgetting that makes your practice something like, say, going fly fishing in a wading pool, or learning to bake using an inedible flour substitute. Pick your simile in which you learn a technique, sort of, but never actually do the thing that is supposed to be the whole point: making bread that tastes good, or hooking and boating a damn fish. I do think that using a practice pad is pretty much unavoidable, but it is important to remember, and compensate for, what you are not getting from it.

PS: Incidentally, Warren has a new piece up on the subject of sound, that is worth a read.

Observations about the volume of things

One of the things on my mind a lot lately has been the issue of projection- making your performance be heard clearly by the other musicians and by the audience. While performing and hanging at the Ballard Jazz Festival recently, I got the opportunity to play with and hear a number of groups in close proximity, in the same room, often on the same set of drums- mine. The circumstances were a moderate-sized, crowded club, with unmiked drums and horns, and amplified guitars and bass. Here are some of the things I noticed:

Guitars are loud, penetrating, and present. They can make unmiked drums sound very small, and hurt the audience's ears. The veteran guitarists know how to get a big sound without blowing everyone away. The veteran players in general have a big sound and play big dynamics, without being obnoxious.

Saxophones are pretty loud. They need to be monitored on stage- they decidedly do not sound loud to the people playing them, or to people sitting behind them, but they do penetrate.

Basses can be loud. At least on stage. I had one experience where the bass wiped out all the dynamics the rest of the group was trying to create. Getting any definition from the audience's perspective is much trickier.

It is not difficult to play the drums under a club-volume amplified acoustic bass and guitar.

Unmiked drums are moderately soft, and can suffer from poor definition. Even when played strongly, they are not very present- they can sound a little distant, not full. Everyone thinks the drums are loud, but when played to their true dynamic range (that is, not lashing the hell out of them, or always hiding in the background, barely touching them), and heard from a reasonable distance, they sit right in the middle of the audience's natural comfort range.

A younger generation of players is getting used to the idea that the drums are supposed to be quiet. When you play at a venue-appropriate full volume with them, they tend to panic and turn up. Or assume that it's rock & roll time and we are dispensing with dynamics altogether, and turn up.

Inexperienced, not-very-confident musicians will track your every upward dynamic move much too closely, and often blow past your downward moves. Veteran players will not instantly jump in volume when you do something big, and recognize opportunities for dynamic or textural changes when you bring it down.

Thin, dark cymbals sound very weak from the back of the room.  At best- several drummers' performances were mostly wiped out because of their cymbals, which were just not up to the task at hand. You have to play them very strongly, while playing the drums gently to get a good balance within the instrument, and they will still sound weak at the back of the room. The few moderately heavier and brighter cymbals present fared much better- you were able to hear what the drummer was doing with them musically.

China-type cymbals are god. Along with the guitar. They really cut, and the right cymbal played injudiciously can wipe out everything else on stage.