Tuesday, April 10, 2012

My new CD is out now

Oh, hey, my new Origin Records CD of obscure tunes by Ornette Coleman, LITTLE PLAYED LITTLE BIRD, is out now and starting to get some radio play.

It features my same smoking tenor player from my Serge Gainsbourg record, Rich Cole, plus 2009 Latin Grammy-nominated pianist Weber Iago, from Brazil, and also my long-time friends, collaborators and  co-cruise ship drones Tim Willcox and Bill Athens on sax and bass. The tunes are all things you'd have to be a pretty serious Ornette fan to know well, plus the very famous Lonely Woman, which I couldn't leave out- I've been playing that one forever.

Right now several tracks have been added to the avant-garde channel at JAZZRADIO.com, and taintradio.org who were the first to add the last record as well, and KKRN 88.5 in northern California, and a student just reported hearing something on KMHD 89.1 here in in Portland. The CDs were only mailed out to the radio people recently, and I expect we'll be seeing quite a bit more in the coming weeks.

If you'd like to buy it (it's a great way to support the blog, you know!), you can order a hard copy via PayPal at the "purchase CDs" area in the sidebar; you can also purchase a download through my Bandcamp.com page.

Sunday, April 08, 2012

Todd's methods: triplet funk with Reed, pt. 2

In case you were playing through part 1 and wondering what the big deal is, here's the actual thing. It looks complicated because there's a lot of ink on the page, but each step of the process is very simple, and the working assumptions should be real obvious: fill in the triplets with the left, play a back beat on 3, add bass drum on 1, drop the bass drum on 1 every other measure to make a longer phrase.




It's all on the page. I could've given more examples, but I need to select and print out a bunch of charts for a rehearsal for my Ballard Jazz Festival appearances. Play these fast enough for the half time feel to come through. The left hand should be very soft all the way through.

Get the pdf.

Saturday, April 07, 2012

More Reggae lead-ins

Here's a nice companion for my transcription of Sly Dunbar intros from his recordings with Serge Gainsbourg. These are some drum lead-ins from a weird little record by a 70's London group called Creation Rebel, album titled Pschotic Junkanoo, with drumming by "Eskimo" Fox (a.k.a. "Charley Mus'come", according to discogs.com. Read more about him at the On-U Sound site.):



You can apparently only get the record by illegal download, or very expensively in vinyl, or on iTunes, so I guess I need to link to iTunes.

Get the pdf.

After the break are as many YouTube links as I could find for this album:

Friday, April 06, 2012

How much to practice something

1. Get wood chisel.
2. Remove everything that doesn't look like
Billy the Kid deftly gunning down Bat Masterson
before the throng of stunned onlookers, a yapping
yellow hound at his feet.
3. SUCCESS!
One of the big persistent things nagging drummers is the question of how much to do. When have you practiced something enough to call it learned, so you can move on with confidence? Some teachers and other not-very-helpful individuals will tell you to just do everything, a lot! You have to be good, man! Were you aware that Weckl practiced 12 hours a day for X years? 

That's great, thanks. You make a mental note to dump a drink down his back soon, and you go back to living with the uncertainty. It's a familiar story.

Here, then, are some guidelines; when, in general, you can begin to feel you've learned a thing— enough, for now:


It's memorized 
At least so you don't have to look at the book while you play it. You don't necessarily need to be able to pull up everything from memory at a later date. And this doesn't apply to reading practice, like the long exercises in Syncopation.


You can play it in a practical range of tempos
for the associated style. Part of your job is to listen to music so you know what that range is. If you're playing through some, for example, bossa nova related materials, you should feel good with them from about 88-180 bpm, and especially from 120-150.   


“...a relaxed groove develops” 
A great suggestion from Ralph Humphrey in his book Even in the Odds. Play it until your muscles uncoil a bit, and you don't feel like you're on the verge of screwing it up every second. Try to achieve that at some tempo in a single practice session.


You have control over your dynamics
You can play it louder and especially much softer than your “generic” practice volume.


You can play it from a stop
The complete thing; no starting with one or more limbs and adding the hard part last. This is very challenging for a lot of students; often you can do it by just isolating the first few notes of the pattern.


You can get into it from something else without stopping 
At least be able transition into it from the previous exercise, but maybe also from a generic time feel in the style of the exercise. If you're working on an elaborate funk beat, be able to transition to it from a more basic funk beat.


You can recover from mistakes
Without losing track of where you are in the measure— you should at least know where the next down beat falls. An intermediate step towards this is to at least not lose the tempo you were playing (assuming you weren't using a click) and jump back on it. 


Your mistakes stop sounding like mistakes
and more like variations. They are accurate and in time, and played with a good sound— you played a good note in the “wrong” place, in the opinion of the stupid book. I don't call those mistakes, actually, I call them “musical development trying to happen if you would just let it.” Or “Free variations.” You should try to harness those accidents a little bit- try to repeat them when they happen, or at least understand what you did.

You can improvise variations
or fills, and get back to the original thing. Formats for practicing this could be:

||: 1x as written | 1x variation :||
or 
||: 3x as written | 1x variation :||
or 
||: 2x as written | 1x variation | 1x as written :||     


At that point, you can consider yourself basically competent with a piece of practice material, and can safely move on to the next thing. Some things you'll want to work on much more than that, either because they're so fundamental to drumming you should just do them forever; or because you need to have them highly developed for the kind of drummer you want to be; or because want to make them a special part of your personal thing.

In general, you don't need to trouble yourself with:


Learning everything at extremely slow or extremely fast tempos.
These are a real productivity-killer. In actual playing, each of those situations are somewhat special circumstances that call for dedicated practice time apart from your regular routine. Keep in mind that you do need play new things slow enough that you can do them perfectly— that may put them at a very slow tempo, or even out of tempo, for a short time. When you can play the notes, move it into a real tempo for the style as soon as possible.


The millions of variations/modifications you can do on any written thing
I could pile on so many things to do with a basic rock beat that you would never get past page 1, exercise 1, if you tried to do them all at once. Don't practice that way, exploding everything to encompass the entire universe of drumming. Get the one thing at hand, and move on.


All of the above don't necessarily apply exactly equally to every single thing you do. You (and your teacher) have to be able to judge the difference between core things on which your entire drumming career depends (which you need to practice a lot), and things that are more background facility-developers (which can grind you to a standstill if you try to do too much with them). For jazz drummers, most of the things done with Syncopation would fall into the first category; Dahlgren & Fine would fall into the second.

Wednesday, April 04, 2012

Typos in Funky Primer

Time to get out your white-out again. This is something that had been bugging me for many years of working with A Funky Primer, by my old professor, Charles Dowd. Most of the book consists of bass drum and snare drum combinations along with 8th notes on the hihat. A few places, though, there are these oddball patterns where the hihat falls on the e's and a's:




There's nothing wrong with the pattern, I guess, except that it makes no sense in context- there's nothing else like it anywhere in the book, except these few random measures. After a couple decades of just ignoring those patterns, it dawned on me that when you beam the notes this way:


The result is exactly what you would expect for that page of the book. I imagine the copyist was getting in a groove with his work, and got a little cocky about knowing where the beams were supposed to go without double-checking his master copy, and screwed it up.

A couple more of these after the break:

Monday, April 02, 2012

VOQOTD: on learning jazz

Following Andrew Hare's Why learn jazz? post:

"[I]t seems to me that playing jazz gives a drummer more sensitivity for the drumset and much more of a rounded concept. It's hard to explain that without someone feeling like I'm trying to say that I want them to play jazz. I'm not. I'm saying, "What I want you to do is play the drums better." It just so happens that, if you learned a lot about jazz, practiced for two or three years and really tried to be good at it, you would become a better drummer.
- Tony Williams

Sunday, April 01, 2012

DBMITW: Lonely Woman

Maybe I shouldn't be posting this so close to the release of my own CD with this tune, but it's too good let go. Would you have the nerve to do what Paul Motian does at the end of Dewey's solo?



I'm going to be in big time work mode getting stuff together for the imminent release of my CD of Ornette Coleman tunes, Little Played Little Bird, so posting may continue to be a little a light this week.

I remember when I was 21

First beer.

Note: I wrote this a couple of months ago and set it aside, thinking I didn't really need to go here. But then I saw that Ted Warren has written about a similar situation with some lesser young players in Toronto- and I thought I'd go ahead and put it up as a companion to his better piece

Here's an article I stumbled across when I googled "crazy jazz chart" while casting around for a suitable image for the getting lost post. Some young avant cats in New York talk about what they see as the sorry creative state of jazz, and indulge in the time-honored tradition of complaining about their education, and a clueless writer blunders around the subject, dumping on artists too lame to have "seized" him by his lazy ears. Aside from being smarter than me, the players sound exactly like I did when I was in school. In the name of personal expression I've edited it down willy nilly- you can go read the original for context:

Darius Jones, alto sax: "They say you need to play what you hear. But if I do, they say, 'oh, you can't be hearing that.' "
Mary Halvorson, guitar: "I couldn't listen to jazz for eight years after I went to jazz school. I'm serious. I could not listen. It turned it into this terrible exercise. And I couldn't listen until about four months ago, when I got into it again, and remembered why I loved it initially. It becomes so formulaic. It all sounds the same and you're taught that the end goal is to perfect a style. Creativity is not emphasized. You're in school and you're being graded on how well you can perfect a style. I don't think it's bad having these structures. It's just overdone, and overdone in a crappy way. There's such an oversaturation of mediocrity."

Read on after the break: