[ JRJ JRJ 7.2 (2013) 183-202] doi:10.1558/jazz.v7i2.20971
(print) ISSN 1753-8637 (online) ISSN 1753-8645
Jedi mind tricks: Lennie Tristano and techniques for imaginative musical practice Marian S. Jago PhD candidate, Department of Music, University of York, 4700 Keele Street, Toronto, Ontario, Canada, M3J 1P3
[email protected]
Abstract In the 1940s, pianist Lennie Tristano was among the rst to attempt to teach jazz improvi sation as an area of study distinct from instrumental technique. In doing so, he employed a methodology that was considered highly unorthodox at the time and that is still somewhat unique for jazz pedagogy. pedagogy. Chief among these unorthodox pedagogical devices was the use of visualization and other mental techniques for musical practice and composition. These methods enabled students to separate imaginative musical experiences from the habits of muscle memory, while at the same time speeding up the acquisition of certain digital techniques and developing the musical imagination. Visualization techniques also served to extend available practice time for students who lacked space suitable for audible instrumental practice, and to those who were working day jobs and had limited time available for instrumental practice. Recent studies in brain plasticity bear out Tristano’s intuitive use of mental techniques as a useful addendum to more traditional forms of instrumental and compositional practice. Though certainly not the rst to emphasize the importance of mental condition ing and imaginative prac tice methods, Tristano’s use of them within a methodology for jazz jaz z instruct inst ruction ion constit con stitutes utes a unique uni que pedagogica pedag ogicall approach appro ach worthy wor thy of fur ther researc re search h and discussion. Keywords : improvisation; jazz; Lennie Tristano; Tristano; pedagogy
Though not widely discussed, pianist Lennie Tristano (1919–1978) was among the rst to develop a method of instruction that dealt directly with the art of jazz improvisation, rather than simply with instrumental technique and theory (Gitler 1966; Davis 1986; Shim 2007; Chamberlain 2000; Hamilton 2007; Robinson 2011; Jago 2011, 2013). 1 In addition to the novel idea 1. Writing on Tristano has been sporadic. Several articles from from contemporary contemporary jazz periodicals are well worth reading as they allow Tristano to express in his own words his philosophy on music, improvisation and the contemporary state of jazz. In particular particular,, see Metronome (August 1949): 14, 32–22; (November 1951): 13, 22; DownBeat (18 (18 April © Equinox Publishing Ltd 2015, Ofce 415, The Workstation, 15 Paternoster Row, Shefeld S1 2BX.
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that improvisation could be taught in a reliable manner, what made Tristano’s approach unique was his focus on the performance of jazz as an art form rather than as a professional occupation. Tristano was concerned with developing his students into artists rather than (just) professional instrumentalists, and this philosophy formed the core of his pedagogical approach. In pursuit of these goals, Tristano made use of unorthodox pedagogical devices that included an emphasis upon visualization and other mental techniques for musical practice. Though certainly not the rst to emphasize the importance of mental conditioning and imaginative practice methods, the degree to which Tristano made use of them within a methodology for jazz instruction was, and is, a decidedly unique pedagogical approach. Recently, scientic research into brain plasticity has shown that many of the techniques employed by Tristano have concrete and veri able benets (Norris 1980; Denis 1985; Mumford and Clark 1985; PascualLeone et al. 1994, 1995). Born in Chicago in 1919, Tristano lost his eyesight completely by the age of six. Despite his blindness, Tristano quickly became procient at musical theory, composition and piano, graduating from Chicago’s American Conservatory of Music in 1943. 2 Tristano began his professional career in Chicago, but relocated to New York in 1946 where he was named Met ronome magazine’s Musician of the Year for 1947 (Shim 2007: 46). During this period he began to teach seriously, attracting such notable students as Warne Marsh (tenor saxophone) and Lee Konitz (alto saxophone), and opening a dedicated teaching studio at 317 E. 32nd Street in Manhattan in 1951.3 In 1949 Tristano would record the two earliest examples of ‘free
1956): 36–37; (16 May 1956): 11–12, 42; (30 October 1958): 17; and Melody Maker (13 (13 November 1965): 7, among others. The only previous attempt to document Tristano’s pedagogical approach comes in the form of an early music education dissertation (McKinney 1978), and the only monograph dedicated to Tristano’s remarkable career comes from Eunmi Shim’s doctoral work (Shim 2007). The only other academic publishing on Tristano Tristano is by the author (Jago 2011; 2013). Insight may be gained into Tristano and his methodology by reading Safford Chamberlain’s work on tenor saxophonist Warne Marsh (Chamberlain 2000), bassist Peter Ind’s autobiography (Ind 2005), Andy Hamilton’s recent work on Lee Konitz (Hamilton 2007) and Ira Gitler’s well-informed essay from the mid-1960s, which has been recently reprinted (Gitler 2001). 2. Tristano was was also also procient procient on a number number of woodwind instruments, including tenor saxophone on which he occasionally performed early in his career career.. 3. In the 1940s, Tristano Tristano experimented with teaching via correspondence, correspondence, and it is through such exchanges that saxophonists Warne Marsh and Ted Brown, and trumpeter © Equinox Publishing Ltd 2015.
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jazz’ for Capitol Records—‘Digression’ and ‘Intuition’—and would engage in ground-breaking experiments in extended studio techniques in jazz for Atlantic Records in 1955 (Tristano, Atlantic 1224; Jago 2013). Following the closure of his studio in 1956, Tristano largely retreated from public life, performing and recording rarely; preferring to teach out of his home on Long Island, New York, until his death in 1978. 4 Tristano’s teaching methodologies were in many ways signicantly opposed to the predominant peda gogical discourse of chord-scale theory later codied by such publications as Improvising Jazz (Coker 1964), Patterns for Improvisation (Nelson 1966), Patterns for Jazz (Coker 1970), and How to Play Jazz and Improvise (Aebersold 1978).5 Though outspoken in contemporary jazz media such as Metro nome, Melody Maker and DownBeat (see note 1), Tristano did not formally express his teaching methods in writing. In assessing Tristano’s approach to imaginative techniques for musical practice, I have conducted an exhaustive survey of the written material on Tristano (Gitler 1966; McKinney 1978; Ind 2005; Hamilton 2007; Shim 2007; Jago 2011, 2013, etc.), and have then bolstered this research with a series of interviews conducted with Ted Brown (1927–present), a tenor saxophonist and student of Tristano’s during the late 1940s–1960s (Jago forthcoming 2015). Additionally, I have engaged in some self-ethnography, drawing upon my own experiences of having studied under this approach. L astly, I have examined research in the area of brain plasticity, paying particular attention to those studies in which the performance of musical tasks serve as an assessment model for the efcacy of imaginative techniques on the acquisition of motor skills. One of the hallmarks of Tristano’s pedagogical approach was the amount of time that was required to progress under a system not based upon the acquisition of instrumental skill as an end in itself, but as a means to improvisational uidity. Tristano submitted all prospective students to an interview process, and made it clear that he was only interested in accepting those students who were willing to commit to a minimum of one year’s
Don Fererra, came into contact with him. Though Tristano seems to have abandoned such methods, it should be noted that in later years Lee Konitz was known to teach via correspondence. 4. There has been a recent upsurge in interest surrounding Tristano. Saxophonist Mark Turner is an outspoken admirer, as is pianist Ethan Iverson of the Bad Plus who has written about Tristano, Konitz and Marsh on his online blog, and has recently studied and performed with Lee Konitz. 5. Along with much of contemporary jazz education. © Equinox Publishing Ltd 2015.
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unbroken study.6 Such a policy stood in contrast to the more prevalent contemporary practice of informal apprenticeship and on-the-job instruction. This commitment to an unbroken series of lessons, in conjunction with Tristano’s emphasis upon artistic practice over immediately useable professional skills, required that those studying with Tristano reject a great many professional opportunities of the time, such as employment with the touring dance-bands still active in certain areas of the United States. Such employment would have taken a student out of town for weeks or months at a time, thereby preventing the regular and concerted study that formed the heart of Tristano’s pedagogical process. Further, the acquisition and use of musical skills for the purpose of making a living was not a priority for Tristano—though the mechanics of music were important, they were important only in so much as they provided the means through which the artist could nd expression. As Lee Konitz recalled in an interview, He [Tristano] was a musician/philosopher… I didn’t know, as yet, [when he began to study] anything about the music as an art form. But [Tristano] felt and communicated that the music was a serious matter. It wasn’t a game or just a means to make a living; it was a life force (Kastin 1985: 1).
As a result, studying with Tristano required a commitment to certain artistic ideals that made earning a living through music somewhat problematic. Though high-prole students such as saxophonists Lee Konitz and Warne Marsh were able to avoid holding day jobs for much of their careers,7 many of Tristano’s students worked at non-musical jobs to pay for their lessons and subsistence in New York. Perhaps most famously, saxophonist Ted Brown led quite an accomplished musical career while at the same time holding down a full-time day job, eventually becoming one of the rst generation of IT professionals. This approach was largely at odds with the prevailing pedagogical approaches of the time which were rooted in the idea of informal apprenticeship, and oriented in large part towards developing the professional skills required for employment in the remaining dance bands and
6. This was the case at least in the early years of Tristano’s teaching in New York (the 1940s). Anecdotal evidence suggests that by the 1960s he had dropped this explicit requirement, though he still demanded a perhaps unusual level of commitment and regular attendance at lessons. 7. But not always. For a time in California, Marsh worked cleaning pools, and Konitz was once both a bible salesman and record-store clerk. Generally speaking, however, both had high enough public proles in New York to make a reasonable living teaching. © Equinox Publishing Ltd 2015.
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orchestras of the day. That jazz music could be approached rst and fore most as an artistic endeavour was not a widespread idea, and there was hitherto no concerted efforts to provide instruction on how to progress as a creative musician. For the most part, improvisation and development as a jazz soloist, rather than simply a procient instrumentalist, was left to the individual—it was something you either had, or didn’t have, and was not, by-and-large, considered something that could be taught in a methodical fashion beyond the explication of chords and their corresponding scales. 8 Holding a steady job has a rather obvious impact on the amount of time one can spend practising an instrument. Jazz history is lled with stories of artists practising nearly incessantly, and the idea that one ought to spend most of one’s day engaged in instrumental practice is now a truism in certain circles. Yet, for the majority of Tristano’s students, such habits were simply not an option. Ted Brown, who began studying with Tristano in the late 1940s, describes his general situation below: When I started studying with Lennie in November of 1948 I was working a day gig, so from Monday through Friday my practice time had to be at night…and that was usually an hour and a half to two hours. It was very hard to nd places to live which would allow me to practice at night. I had a room on 58th Street near Columbus Circle for a while and the Superintendent told me I had to stop at 9:00 PM. By the time I got home from work and had something to eat it would be around 7:00 PM before I could get started. And if I went one minute past 9:00 PM the Super would start banging on the radiator. I moved quite often because of noise complaints but eventually found places on the upper west side of Manhattan which would let me play until 10:00 PM (interview with Brown, 31 March 2009).
The situation must have been quite similar for other Tristano students with non-musical jobs, to greater or lesser degrees. It is worth reiterating here that the method of study developed by Tristano was highly unique for its time. Tristano’s early years of teaching predated the regular inclusion of jazz into college music programmes, 9 and
8. Discussions with Ted Brown, Lee Konitz, Bob Mover, Don Palmer and other musicians active on the New York scene during the 1940s, 1950s and 1960s bear this out. 9. While the Westlake College of Music in Los Angeles added jazz to its curriculum in 1945 and North Texas State added a jazz degree in 1949, Berklee did not begin to hand out diplomas in jazz until 1954, the summer school programme at the Lenox School did not begin until 1957, and Oscar Peterson’s school for Advanced Contemporary Music (Canada) until 1960. With the possible exception of the short-lived Lenox and Peterson schools, these programmes were still not concerned with the types of creative issues that formed the basis for Tristano’s approach, but rather pioneered the types of chord-scale © Equinox Publishing Ltd 2015.
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was a marked departure from the hitherto ad hoc ways in which prociency as a jazz soloist had been developed. 10 Though Tristano did not emphasize musical skill for its own sake, his approach, which stressed musical uidity, relied upon a level of musical competence that was rare for the time period. Tristano expected his students to have complete mastery of their instruments, to be able to play in all keys, to have a signicant grasp of rhythmic complexity, to be able to transpose by ear and to be able to sing accurately all the intervals, melodies and harmonic movements being practised. In today’s culture of institutionalized jazz education it seems obvious that a musician should have full command of their instrument and be able to play in all keys, and to hear that students were impressed by Tristano’s emphasis upon musical rudiments perhaps sounds naïve. However, one needs to bear in mind that in the 1940s such rigorous musical training was still the nearly exclusive domain of classical music, the style most represented by academic musical education. Additionally, such professionalism was simply not required to make a living playing in the vast majority of dance bands at the time. Warne Marsh explains his earliest contact with Tristano:11 They were lessons, and they seemed exactly what I wanted from a teacher… Oh, it was elementary. It was what a musician needs to know to be able to express himself in the language of music… It was all the rudiments of music that actually you don’t get when you go after playing dance band music and playing solos the way kids do. You don’t get what classical music does offer if you stay with it long enough, which is polyrhythms and mixed meters and good harmony and ear training, the substance of music (Chamberlain 2000: 43).
In order to balance the musical demands made of his students with the realities of living and working in an urban environment, Tristano’s pedagogical approach placed a great emphasis upon techniques and methods of musical development that took place away from the instrument.
rooted curriculums (along with composition and arranging, etc.) which still predominate in institutional jazz education today. 10. From the perspective of the practising student, it is also worth considering that Tristano’s methodology predated the establishment of the ‘practice room’ as a venue for concerted study, and required that the student nd means to practise at home, outdoors or elsewhere. 11. At the time Don Ferrara was studying with Tristano through the mail, something that both Tristano and Konitz have done on occasion when a student was unable to attend lessons in person. Ferrara showed both Ted Brown and Warne Marsh some of his correspondence with Tristano. © Equinox Publishing Ltd 2015.
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This emphasis upon improvisation and melodic development, along with the mental techniques that Tristano encouraged, resulted in a form of ‘practice’ that lent itself particularly well to an interrupted routine, and may have been one of the chief reasons that so many of Tristano’s students were able to nd success despite their (often) lack of full-time attendance to music. As we shall see, recent ndings in the area of brain plasticity fur ther bear out the efcacy of mental techniques for the acquisition of instru mental skill. Tristano’s emphasis on musical practice that took place away from one’s instrument both stemmed from and reinforced his belief that in order to truly improvise, one’s aural imagination had to be both fertile and precise. The cultivation of the aural imagination also served to free the musician from the habits and techniques of muscle memory linked to a particular instrument. Knowledge of intervals, scales, keys and harmonic progressions were often best worked on away from one’s instrument, and were meant to be tied to the voice as a means of expression. The ability to sing intervals, scales and harmonic movement in a variety of keys ensured that the aural imagination was able to correctly conceive of the appropriate pitch relationships and that the voice was able to translate those pitches into sound. A visceral understanding of pitches and pitch relationships divorced from a specic instrumental technique ensured that such musical information had meaning beyond the specic connes of a particular instrument and began to form the basis of an ‘internal reservoir’ of ideas (Sarath 1996: 7). This embodied pitch knowledge could then be easily transferred to one’s instrument in a manner that emphasized playing ‘by ear’ through the navigation of pitch relationships rather than the named notes. Work on the hearing, voicing and naming of intervals was practice that could be accomplished anywhere that was quiet, and Ted Brown would often spend his lunch hour on such exercises. Except for working with records, I did most of my ear training on my lunch hour. Fortunately, in those days I had the luxury of a whole hour for lunch and found places that were quiet so I could hear it in my head and sing it or whistle it softly to myself. Eventually I was able to work on some of the lines in my head as well (interview with Brown, 31 March 2009).
Such practice could be done in a variety of ways, all of which emphasized the mental imagination of pitch, or pitch relationships. Students could make use of a pitch pipe initially to conrm their ndings and to solidly establish starting tones, though the goal was to be able to clearly imagine,
© Equinox Publishing Ltd 2015.
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or pre-hear, the material in question. The exercises were then sung in order to ensure that the knowledge was embodied, rather than abstract. Vocalizing enabled the student to conrm the accuracy of their aural imagination and made explicit the connection between internal aural conception and performance practice. In order for his students to develop an understanding of scale types, intervallic relationships, functional harmony and similar concepts, Tristano encouraged the use of small ashcards upon which the student would write the twelve musical notes, one per card, using the reverse side for enharmonic spellings where necessary. These ashcards were then carried in a small pouch or pocket, and were used for recall drills during any available downtime. Use of the ashcards in conjunction with a metronome, or with tapping a foot or hand, required instantaneous recall and simulated the reactions needed in live musical contexts. A student could practise intervallic relationships this way by having to instantly call out the appropriate note a certain interval distant from the drawn ashcards. Once a student had developed some comfort with theoretical basics, chord progressions could be worked though in a similar manner, by having to name out the chords to a designated tune using notes drawn on the ashcards to determine the starting chords. Any number of similar exercises and games could be designed to help the student become procient at certain theoretical con cepts and skills while away from their instrument. These activities were particularly well suited to trips on the subway. Once a working knowledge of such concepts had been acquired, the student could begin to approach their instrumental application through mental processes. The student was encouraged to nd a quiet location and to clear the mind of distraction. Visualizing their instrument so strongly as to be able to feel the keys under their ngers, the student would then slowly and carefully ‘play’ the exercise in question. With practice, the student would not only be able to ‘feel’ the keys during this visualization, but would also hear the corresponding pitches from their instrument. When done consistently, it became possible not only to practise in such a way, but to make mistakes that were ‘audible’, and to seek to correct the technique that led to the error.12
12. I encourage anyone who is an instrumentalist to try this. First, close your eyes and imagine holding your instrument. Feel the keys or frets or strings beneath your ngers. Get the instrument to produce a sound that you can actually hear ringing in your inner ear. Now turn a metronome on to medium tempo and play through a basic exercise–play a G Major scale, slowly in quarter notes. Feel your ngers moving and concentrate on hearing © Equinox Publishing Ltd 2015.
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Instrumental practice is a noisy pursuit, particularly for wind players, and nding a means to practise when living in an urban environment is an ongoing negotiation for most. 13 For many students who had to deal with the limitations imposed by day jobs and lack of studio space, Tristano’s mental techniques provided a practical and effective way to work on music in situations in which audible practice was unfeasible. Tristano stressed the advantages to practising one’s instrument silently, concentrating on hearing the pitches internally and relating them to the appropriate ngering. With practice, it meant that one could, for all intents and purposes, practise an instrument without actually holding it, through a concentrated process of visualization. A combination of these techniques provided opportunities to ‘practise’ when otherwise unable to actually play an instrument. Lennie talked a lot about being able to visualize and relate it to your instrument, knowing what the ngering would be as well. The effect of that kind of practice is truly amazing in the condence it gives you. It really imbeds it in your brain so you feel it very strongly… [He also] used to stress the advantage of doing silent practice on your instrument. I got to the point where on my lunch hour I would go up to the mezzanine of an Automat near work where it was quiet and go through one of the lines in my head…very slowly, note by note, interval by interval but hearing it and knowing what the ngerings would be…and that was really very benecial. Then when it came time to play that line at the Saturday night session at the studio it was like I had practiced it every night (interview with Brown, 31 March 2009). 14
the pitches change. Make sure everything is in time. Now play diatonic 7th chords in the same key. Now try a tune. When I was learning to play I spent a great deal of time doing practice of this sort. It helped me immensely both by enabling me to work through new concepts without the distraction of the instrument, and by developing my ability to concentrate. When you get to the point that you can make audible mistakes doing this kind of practice, you’re doing it right! 13. While not all emerging jazz musicians of the period were urban dwellers, I think one could safely say that most were. Jazz is predominantly an urban music, and urban centres such as Los Angeles, Chicago, Detroit, New York as well as smaller regional centres drew serious players to their environs to seek employment. In any case, I am concerned for the moment not with possible exceptions to the rule, but with the habits and hurdles of musicians in New York city. 14. Similarly, Lee Konitz (who has spent a lifetime practising in apartments and hotel rooms) has developed a method of practising the saxophone that requires one to blow so softly into the instrument as to only create ‘ghost’ notes, or pitches essentially inaudible to all but the player. Such a technique develops extraordinary control of the air-stream, and, through its reliance upon aural imagination over audible tone colour, demands that the player pay close attention to the structural content of what they are playing. No longer distracted by your own sound, you can often create better music. © Equinox Publishing Ltd 2015.
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Recently, scientic research in the area of brain plasticity (Mumford and Hall 1985; Pascual-Leone et al. 1995) has been able to prove that imaginative practice of instrumental technique utilizes the same areas of the brain as tactile practice, and may be as effective as tactile practice in the acquisition of motor skills. Using brain mapping and computer-monitored keyboard tests, scientists at the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke in Maryland, USA, compared the progress of two groups of pianists in acquiring facility with a new nger exercise. Over the course of ve days, one group was permitted to practise the nger exercise at the keyboard for a two-hour period and the second group was permitted only to visualize the practising of the exercise. Those in the visualization control group were not permitted to move their ngers to mimic piano playing, and were connected to sensors to monitor and prevent such movement. Researchers found that activity in the areas of the brain that represented the muscle groups involved in the exercise increased equally for both the tactile and imaginative control groups, and that: mental practice alone led to the same plastic changes in the motor system as those occurring with the acquisition of a skill by repeated physical practice. By the end of day 5, the changes in the cortical motor outputs to the muscles involved in the task did not differ between the physical and the mental practice groups. However, the mental practice group’s performance was at the level of that occurring with only 3 days’ physical practice. After a single 2-h physical practice session, the mental practice group’s performance improved to the level of 5 days’ physical practice (Pascual-Leone et al. 1995: 1041).
Though the group that was permitted to physically practise the piano was initially more adept at the nger exercise than the group that only men tally practised the exercise, the mental practice control group did nonetheless exhibit motor skills that were equivalent to three days of physical practice. After just two hours of tactile practice, the mental control group had attained a similar skill level to those that had physically practised for ve days. Additionally, the scientists suggested that ‘mental practice may accelerate the acquisition of a new motor skill by providing a well-suited cognitive model of the demanded motor act in advance of any physical practice’, and that, ‘the combination of mental and physical practice leads to greater performance improvement than physical practice alone’ (Pascual-Leone et al. 1995: 1045). Working on musical concepts through means of visualization may ensure that the most difcult parts of the intellectual process have already been worked through before the student touches their instrument, and © Equinox Publishing Ltd 2015.
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physical practice may then be left for concerns related to the use of those concepts or skills. Time spent working on mental practice and visualization also greatly improves one’s ability to focus and concentrate, and ensures that the material is truly learned , rather than simply memorized or tied to a system of muscle memory. As Ted Brown recalled, the time I spent working on mental practice and visualization greatly improved my ability to focus and concentrate, thus enabling me to get more out of all aspects of practice (interview with Brown, 24 April 2009).
Similarly, an understanding of the harmonic structure of the tunes a student was working on was to be ingrained away from the instrument. Using a small notebook, one could again use time spent commuting or when otherwise unoccupied to learn harmonic progressions. Once a progression was learned, such time could be spent visualizing the harmony away from the notebook, speaking the chords and chord tones aloud and singing the root movements, all against either a metronome or the rhythm of one’s foot. Saxophonist Ted Brown recalls doing just this: I tried to learn the chord progressions to the tunes I would be running into at sessions, so I asked Lennie every week for the changes to another tune. I kept them in a little 3 × 5 notebook and during my lunch hour or riding the subway to and from work would sing them to myself while trying to memorize the progression. Then when I got home at night I would spend maybe 20 minutes or so working on one of those tunes (interview with Brown, 31 March 2009).
And that: If I was on the subway or on my lunch hour I would sing the roots… mainly to memorize the overall progression. At the same time I would say the name of the chord and know what that chord symbol represented. Later at night I would use my horn to play the notes in each chord to be sure I knew what they sounded like. Then I would also try some short melodic phrases using chord tones and scale tones to see how a melody could ow through the progression (interview with Brown, 24 April 2009).
In what is a rather radical departure from the current pedagogical practices of many college-based jazz education programmes, Tristano considered the learning of solos, development of uidity in all keys, exploration of harmony, and the act of improvising to be aural projects rather than problems to be solved intellectually. In particular, Tristano’s approach to the learning, or ‘lifting’, of pre-recorded solos was an involved process, the bulk of which was suited to non-instrumental practice. © Equinox Publishing Ltd 2015.
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The initial step in the process involved learning to sing along with a chosen recording.15 The student was not simply to copy pitches, but to learn to sing along in such a way that they could visualize themselves playing the solo. Time feel, accent placement, timbre, articulation and mood were all as essential as the pitch elements of the solo and needed to be embodied in the process of this initial learning of the solo. The next step, which was often an arduous one for new students, was to learn to sing the solo without the recording. Again, though the establishment of the correct pitches was of course important, a ‘correct’ reproduction of the solo would involve all of the other elements listed above. Additionally, the student would aim to be able to accurately sing the solo in time at the recorded tempo, as well as at slower tempos that emphasized pitch accuracy and note placement. The third step was to transfer the solo to one’s instrument, ultimately being able to play it both in conjunction with the source recording and at slower tempos. The goal was to copy not only the notes, but also the sound and feel of the record. The student was to aim for an embodied understanding of how the solo was being played, rather than simply an accurate reproduction of the notes in question. Only as a nal step would the solo be committed to paper for analysis. While the initial learning of the solo required a record or tape player of some sort,16 as soon as the student had progressed to the second stage of the process it could be practised anywhere that there was a conducive environment. Tristano encouraged his students to sing, but also to concentrate on hearing the solo accurately in the imagination, concentrating closely enough to physically identify with singing it. If a student had progressed far enough, one could use the imagination to visualize all of the steps involved in playing the solo from the feel of the keys under the ngers to the sound and inection of the pitches. By the time the student then went to transfer the solo to their instrument, the process was usually quite intuitive. 17
15. Tristano was known to encourage his students to learn solos by such players as Lester Young, Charlie Parker and Billie Holiday, but the choice of solo was often left to the student. 16. Today of course mp3 players have rendered this entire process portable. 17. This has been my experience. Once you nally reach the stage of learning to play the solo, the only thing left to do is locate the pitches on the horn, which is generally a fairly quick process. After that, it is simply a matter of learning to play the solo up to the recorded speed, and to practise with the recording often enough to completely blend sound and inection with the original artist. Eventually, the entire concept of the solo— pitch, tone and feeling—should be available to you when playing the solo without the recording. © Equinox Publishing Ltd 2015.
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Additionally, Tristano utilized aspects of visualization and mental practice in the process of composition. Compositional exercises were a weekly staple of lessons with Tristano, and were based upon the harmonic framework of standard tunes in the jazz repertoire. Each week the student would choose a tune with which they were familiar and would write a ‘line’ over it to be played in their next lesson. The goal was not to compose a melody in the traditional sense, 18 but rather to compose an ideal solo. 19 It was an opportunity to slow down the instantaneous process of improvisation and to explore ‘the shape of the melodic line…why a certain group of notes would sound great and a very similar group would not’ (interview with Brown, 31 March 2009). Tristano encouraged these compositional projects to be borne as much as possible from the musical imagination rather than ingrained habit, and encouraged students to work as much as possible away from their instruments. Initially, students would nd that they needed their instruments in hand to successfully visualize pitches, but as they gained experience and progressed with Tristano’s techniques of mental practice and visualization, they would grow less dependent upon external sources. The ability to use the aural imagination to accurately hear one’s way through a tune and to map a melodic path through the progression helped to ensure that the ensuing line was free from material borne of muscle memory or other habits related to one’s instrument. 20 Being able to compose a jazz
18. The tunes are largely through-composed and lack standard conventions such as repeated sections, clearly delineated bridge melodies, repeated themes or motifs etc. ‘Two Not One’ with its repeated A sections is a notable exception. 19. If the resulting work was deemed promising, the student would learn the piece and would work on it further. Several of these compositional assignments were ultimately recorded, and in turn they have formed the ‘standard repertoire’ for those pursuing this method of study. Among such tunes as ‘317 E. 32 St.’ (Tristano), ‘Kary’s Trance’, ‘Subconsciouslee’ (Konitz) and ‘Background Music’ (Marsh) stand Ted Brown’s compositions ‘Smog Eyes’ and ‘Jazz of Two Cities’ as memorable additions to the canon. 20. Though I did not study with Tristano, I have studied with Lee Konitz, and many of the mental techniques and practices encouraged by Tristano have been similarly encouraged by Konitz. Coming rather later to music than most people, I believe that were it not for the opportunity to separate the learning and digestion of certain musical concepts from the act of instrumental practice I would not have come nearly as far, nearly as quickly. In addition to reserving the time spent actually working with the saxophone to an exploration of improvisation and melody rather than theoretical concepts, the time I spent working on mental practice and visualization greatly improved my ability to focus and concentrate, thus enabling me to get more out of all aspects of practice. This ability to concentrate is of course of primary importance on the bandstand, particularly in improvising contexts. © Equinox Publishing Ltd 2015.
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line in this manner was also an indication that the harmonic structu re and sound of the tune was ingrained aurally rather than recalled, or memorized, intellectually. I think the more you can do it without the horn the better the results are. It helps to avoid certain little licks or favorite tricks that we may not even know we use (interview with Brown, 24 April 2009). Doing that consistently really helped my playing more than anything else (interview with Brown, 31 March 2009).
As with every aspect of Tristano’s method, these compositional techniques and approaches were designed to further develop the skills required by the rigours of improvising. Just the process of putting it down on paper forces you to listen to that inner voice that is going on in your head, like when you feel like singing or whistling. And getting that rst phrase down on paper is the hardest one because that can set a direction for what comes after it. So it might take 15 or 20 minutes hearing different possibilities, playing or singing them (softly so as not to disturb that inner voice), writing them down, changing them or erasing them and deciding whether you like them or not. That is the same exact process you are going through when you are improvising. Trying to relax and listen to that inner voice and allow it to lead you through the tune, phrase by phrase, only it is happening much faster. So writing gives you a way to develop the condence that you can depend on that voice being there when you need it. And to realize that if it isn’t there once in a while, it will come if you can just pause and relax for a couple seconds until you hear something. And if it still doesn’t happen just stop! (Interview with Brown, 24 April 2009).
Closely related to Tristano’s emphasis upon visualization, imagination and mental practising is the idea that musical knowledge, especially for the improviser, should be embodied rather than simply understood intellectually. Tristano believed that if musical materials were learned slowly, with an emphasis upon aural conception, imagination, and the improvised manipulation of sound rather than the digital navigation of patterns, the resulting knowledge would lend itself to intuitive expression. Scales, intervals, functional harmony and other materials would then operate for the improviser in the same manner that speech syntax, vocabulary and grammar operates for the native speaker—intuitively and unconsciously, following conventions that are implicitly understood. Here again, recent scientic study into the ways in which the brain processes explicit and implicit knowledge can be seen to have musical relevance.
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Explicit knowledge is that which is ‘expressed by the deliberate recollection of information that is bound to a specic time and context’, whereas implicit knowledge ‘is expressed by behaviour that demonstrated that previous exposure to a task has resulted in improved performance on that task without the subject consciously recalling being exposed to that task before’ (Pascual-Leone et al. 1994: 1287). In a recent study, volunteers were assigned to groups and asked to respond at certain moments in a seemingly random numeric sequence. Their brain function was mapped during the process, which was repeated at intervals 120 times. The numeric sequence was in fact not random, and the ability to correctly and consciously replicate the twelve-part sequence was, for the purposes of the trial, considered explicit knowledge. It was found that among those who memorized the sequence, the brain ceased to react in response, and was instead actively anticipating the points at which a response was required. Among those who had not consciously memorized the repeating sequence, the scientists saw ‘a progressive improvement in RT [reaction time] during implicit learning [which was] correlated with an enlargement in the maps of cortical motor outputs to the muscles involved in the task and with an increase in the intensity of the signals to those maps’ (PascualLeone et al. 1994: 1287). In those who had become consciously aware of the pattern repetition, the continued improvement in response time during the exercise was shown to be ‘because of a change in the subject’s strategy (anticipation instead of reaction), whereas there was a rapid return of the cortical motor outputs to their baseline topography’ (Pascual-Leone et al. 1994: 1288). When cortical thresholds return to baseline levels in this manner, ‘the task becomes over-learned and correct performance eventually may become automatic’ (Pascual-Leone et al. 1995: 1045). When knowledge of the pattern remained unconscious, the subjects’ attempts at appropriate reaction to stimulus was a model of implicit, improvised learning. The resulting brain activity was shown to be quite different from that of those who had memorized the pattern and were no longer reacting authentically to the stimulus, but attempting to anticipate the appropriate response. Musical parallels could be drawn to those who memorize and practise pattern-based material from pedagogical sources, such as Patterns for Improvisation (Nelson 1966) and Patterns for Jazz (Coker 1970), and those who develop an embodied understanding of a musical vocabulary and then improvise with the resulting knowledge. When moving from initial exercises in visualization and ear training, Tristano’s students were encouraged to invent their own melodic patterns
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and to work them through the varying keys by ear. As students progressed, those patterns were then extended to move horizontally through chord progressions. The idea always was to use one’s imagination and aural conception to create a musical landscape that was both personal and intuitively constructed, and even basic exercises were intended to function not simply as material to build technique, but as development of both the ear and the musical imagination. Ted Brown recalls this process: [D]uring the period with Lennie I did a lot of work on scale-type exercises…a little pattern that you could play up and down the whole range of the horn…taking it through all the keys [by ear]… major, melodic minor and harmonic minor. That was by far the most difcult for me back in 1948–1949, because prior to that I was reading scales and exercises out of a book. So, to do it [by ear] was hard at rst. But Lennie was very patient and encouraging so you always felt like you were on the right track, even if you had no idea how long that track would be (interview with Brown, 31 March 2009).
Patterns for students of Tristano were not intended to function as elements of a reliable and pre-rehearsed vocabulary, but as tools to help the student navigate and become familiar with the harmonic landscape. Patterns or gures were conceived by the students themselves, and had to be sung in order for them to be recognized as vocabulary rather than simply as nger exercises. Once a pattern could be sung and then transferred to the instrument in all keys, it was not to be rehearsed, inserted or otherwise treated as a ‘lick’, but left to resurface naturally in the course of one’s playing, or not, as the case might be. One of the hallmarks of Tristano’s playing style is his use of accents to create unique rhythmic effects, often crossing bar lines and superimposing a variety of polyrhythmic effects onto the basic 4/4 foundation. Therefore, rhythmic exibility was emphasized as part of Tristano’s teaching method ology, and students worked on becoming able to freely accent any part of an eighth-note line. Rhythmic practice occurred rst on scales in all keys, then on melodic fragments composed from those scales, then over basic chord progressions, eventually becoming a key element of both improvisation and composition. [T]he idea was to keep a steady 4/4 rhythmic foundation but through accents and inections use other time feelings on top of that. For exam ple, playing an eighth note gure where you are accenting in groups of three eighth notes will superimpose a 3/8 feeling on top of the 4/4. The same with accenting in groups of three quarter notes will give you a 3/4 feeling. Lennie had me practice scales and place the accents in groups of three eighths all the way up and down…then start the accent on the © Equinox Publishing Ltd 2015.
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second note and then the third note, etc. Then he encouraged me to create my own patterns using odd time accents. One that I spent a lot of time on was a 7/8 gure built by using a combination of four eighths plus three eighths (interview with Brown, 31 March 2009).
As always, the idea was not to develop a mechanical or automatic approach to using such rhythmic devices, but to come to such a deep understanding of the sound and feel of such accenting techniques that the use of them became a natural and intuitive means of phrasing. 21 To this end, and in addition to instrumental practice and the construction of rhythmic diagrams, Tristano had his students work out rhythmic ideas through tapping and clapping them using different parts of the body. Eventually, one would have a different rhythmic element active in each limb at the same time.22 In such a way, students acquired an embodied understanding of the rhythmic divisions, and a practical command of brain/body unity not often seen outside of well-practised percussionists. 23 After much time spent with these processes, the use of a rhythmic vocabulary becomes an intuitive, rather than articulated, intellectual process. Underlying Tristano’s pedagogical emphasis upon musical practice that did not involve one’s instrument were larger concerns of concentration and consciousness. In order to improvise intuitively, the improviser must learn to concentrate deeply and for long stretches of time. The mental effort required to remain ‘in the moment’ for a full set’s worth of music making is not insignicant, an effort made all the more difcult by the external dis tractions that are part of performing in clubs. Such focused concentration serves to situate the improviser in the musical moment, freeing the mind from the conscious application of technique; a state of mind that is less about concentration on something as much as it is about not concentrating on something. The goal is to occupy a heightened awareness of the process of creation—the immediate translation of the ‘internal repository’ of technique and ideas to musical statements without a conscious resort 21. Having myself spent time on the methodical application of these exercises, I can conrm that over time the use of the accenting language they teach becomes intuitive. 22. For example, try to get a different rhythmic division in each limb. Half notes in the left foot, quarters in the right foot, eighth notes in the left hand and sixteenth notes in the right hand. Try various combinations of this that alternate rhythmic division in the feet and hands and that variously involve the left and right hands/feet. Add in a variety of triplet gures and accents as you become more condent with the process. Exercise books in drum rudiments can often provide challenging examples. 23. Unsurprisingly, both Ted Brown and Lee Konitz have been known to ll in as drum mers when required. Brown famously lled in behind Tristano at the Confucius restaurant for a period of days. © Equinox Publishing Ltd 2015.
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to those techniques or ideas. It is a form of consciousness akin to meditation (D. T. Suzuki 1956; Herrigel 1981; S. Suzuki 1993) which results in a ‘conceptual state where both freedom from and simultaneous access to’ (Sarath 1996: 7–8) such knowledge is possible. As with study in the Zen arts of Japan, Tristano’s pedagogy concentrated upon the processes involved in the mastery of improvisation and instrumental uidity, trusting that the musical results would then take care of themselves (Herrigel 1981). Though repetition of vocabulary is unavoidable in idiomatic improvisation, Tristano’s approach sought to bring about a state of consciousness from which the expression of such stylistic traits was divorced from the regurgitation of explicitly recalled clichés or patterns (Sarath 1996: 11). Tristano’s methods form one of the most clearly established lineal traditions in jazz, and provide an alternative to much of the current college-based jazz curriculum (Jago 2011). Though certainly not the rst to emphasize the importance of mental conditioning and imaginative practice methods, 24 Tristano’s use of them within a methodology for jazz instruction constitutes a unique pedagogical approach worthy of further research and discussion. Continuing research into brain activity in response to learning stimulus, in particular to the nature and affect of mental techniques for acquiring motor skills, lend credence to many of Tristano’s methods. Examination of Tristano’s pedagogical approach helps to ll what is a rather alarming gap in our understanding of the ways and means by which jazz practices were conceived, transmitted and learned before the widespread advent of institutional jazz education. Such an examination also serves to highlight that as jazz expression has, and continues to, take a myriad of forms, the philosophical underpinnings of such expression are similarly diverse, and perhaps tied to unique pedagogical methodologies. The growing dominance of institutional jazz education has perhaps led to an (over) reliance on a ‘one-size-ts-all’ approach to the teaching and learn ing of jazz, one that prioritizes the materials of the music (scales, chords, patterns, licks) over the types of embodied learning espoused by Tristano, Konitz and other members of Tristano’s ‘school’. While the time constraints imposed by institutional education likely render a whole-scale adoption of methods such as Tristano’s impractical, further explorations of older, more orally-based teaching methods for jazz may provide valuable models of organically conceived musical practices, pedagogical methods and forms of socio-cultural organization which are increasingly rare.
24. Pablo Casals, for example, also utilized such techniques (Mackie 2006). © Equinox Publishing Ltd 2015.
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References Aebersold, Jamey (1978) How to Play Jazz and Improvise . New Albany, IN: Jamey Aebersold Jazz. Brown, Ted (2009) Interviews with the author, 31 March and 24 April. Chamberlain, Safford (2000) An Unsung Cat: The Life and Music of Warne Marsh. London: Scarecrow Press. Coker, Jerry (1964) Improvising Jazz. New Jersey: Prentice Hall. ——(1970) Patterns for Jazz. Indiana: Studio P/R Inc. Davis, Francis (1986) In the Moment: Jazz in the 1980s . Oxford: Oxford University Press. Denis, M. (1985) ‘Visual Imagery and the Use of Mental Practice in the Development of Motor Skills’. Canadian Journal of Applied Sport Sciences 10.4: 4S–15S. Gitler, Ira (2001 [1966]) The Masters of BeBop: A Listener’s Guide . New York: DaCapo Press. Hamilton, Andy (2007) Lee Konitz: Conversations on the Improvisor’s Art . Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Herrigel, Eugen (1981 [1956]) Zen in the Art of Archery . New York: Vintage Books. Ind, Peter (2005) Jazz Visions: Lennie Tristano and his Legacy . London: Equinox. Jago, Marian (2011) ‘Musical Koryu: Lineal Traditions in Jazz: Lennie Tristano/Lee Konitz’. MUSICultures 38: 205–227. ——(2013) ‘What is a Jazz Record Anyway? Lennie Tristano and the Use of Extended Studio Techniques in Jazz’. Journal of the Art of Record Production 8. ——forthcoming 2015. ‘Dig It: The Musical Life of Ted Brown’. Journal of Jazz Stud ies 10. Kastin, David (1985) ‘Back to Basics’, http://www.melmartin.com/html_pages/Interviews/konitz.html (accessed 18 April 2009). Mackie, Vivien (2006) Just Play Naturally: An Account of her Study with Pablo Casals in the 1950s. Boston: Duende. McKinney, John Francis (1978) ‘The Pedagogy of Lennie Tristano’. Ed.D., Fairleigh Dickinson University. Mumford, B., and C. Hall (1985) ‘The Effects of Internal and External Imagery of Performing Figures i n Figure Skating’. Canadian Journal of Applied Sport Sciences 10.4: 171–76. Nelson, Oliver. 1966. Patterns for Improvisation. Los Angeles: O. Nelson & Noslen Music. Norris, Ross A. (1980) ‘Imagination’. Review of Research in Visual Arts Education 6.2: 53–60. Pascual-Leone, Alvaro, Jordan Grafman and Mark Hallett (1994) ‘Modulation of Cortical Motor Output Maps during Development of Implicit and Explicit Knowledge’. Science, New Series, 263.5151: 1287–1289. http://dx.doi.org/10.1126/ science.8122113 Pascual-Leone, Alvaro, Dang Nguyet, Leonardo G. Cohen, Joacquim P. Brasil-Neto, Angel Cammarota and Mark Hallet (1995) ‘Modulation of Muscle Responses Evoked by Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation during the Acquisition of New Fine Motor Skills’. Journal of Neurophysiology 74.3: 1037–45. Robinson, Bradford J. (2011) ‘Lennie Tristano’. Grove Music Online (accessed 11 April 2011).
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Sarath, Ed (1996) ‘A New Look at Improvisation’. Journal of Music Theory 40.1: 1–38. http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/843921 Shim, Eunmi (2007) Lennie Tristano: His Life in Music . Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Suzuki, D. T. (1956) Zen Buddhism. New York: Doubleday. Suzuki, Shunryu (1993) Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind . New York: Weatherhill Inc.
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