Tag Archives: Jazz Improvisation

New Book: Four-Note Diatonic Triad Cells

I’m especially pleased to announce that my latest eBook, Four-Note Diatonic Triad Cells: Comprehensive Studies in Leading Tones, is now available for purchase and immediate download.

Major and minor triads are a fundamental building block of virtually any melodic language, most certainly including jazz. As an improvising musician, gaining mastery over the movement and connection of triads is an essential skill that leads to fluency and cogency in musical expression. In bebop as well as the modern jazz languages, this is especially true when the triads can be seamlessly connected via half-step leading tones.

The concept of this book is simple, but far-reaching: I’ve converted every diatonic triad (major and minor, in all inversions) into a “four-note melodic cell” by adding a note that helps it to connect (via half-step voice leading) to other triad cells in a flowing, melodic way. By adding this fourth note, triads become more readily available for eighth note and sixteenth note movement, which is still the rhythmic staple of modern jazz improvisation.

Each triad cell is connected to the next by both lower neighbor and upper neighbor leading tones. The “fourth note” of the cell is either a diatonic tone (either scale degree, or a repeated chord tone), or a chromatic passing tone, depending on how one cell needs to connect to the next cell:

The triads are organized to move intervallically: ascending perfect 4ths (as in the example above), as well as ascending and descending minor 2nds, 3rds, etc., in every possible way. These intervallic movement sequences are organized from major to major, minor to minor, major to minor and minor to major; again, in all inversions and with upper and lower neighbor leading tones connecting them.

Some of these movement sequences will most likely sound familiar (“bebopish”), whereas others will sound most decidedly “modern”. At the end of the book I’ve included a Reference Chapter that demonstrates how each of these triad cell movements can be applied to ii-V7 cycles. Part of my aim in composing this book was to bridge the gap between bebop and more contemporary jazz languages.

You can think of this book as a playable reference, of sorts, on how to connect triads via leading tones. Like my other eBooks, it is comprehensive and very carefully organized and presented. There are over 200 pages of notated exercises to keep you busy for a very long time. I’ve composed each exercise to flow in a smooth, melodically logical way.

Working from this book will not only significantly increase your melodic fluidity when improvising, but will also improve how you hear and think harmonically and melodically. You’ll have a working guide on how to go deeper into using melodic devices with triads, including triad pairs, stacked triads and enclosures.

And as a bonus, practicing these exercises on a regular basis will significantly improve your technical skills, no matter which melodic instrument you play. You’ll be working with arpeggios in a fundamentally different way: One that is challenging, enjoyable, and ultimately, highly practical.

I’ve written this book with the intermediate to advanced jazz improviser in mind (for this reason I don’t explain basic jazz harmony and theory), though even less advanced students of improvisation can benefit from working through these exercises by getting the sounds in their ears and under their fingers. All exercises are in treble clef.

So take a look at the Four-Note Diatonic Triad Cells: Comprehensive Studies in Leading Tones landing page on my blog, which has a pdf sample of one of the exercises, as well as a pdf copy of the written introduction of the book, which further explains the concept, the format, the benefits and the practice guidelines for implementing the work. I’ll also be putting up a few jazz etudes that deal specifically with this concept in the near future. Hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think!

Deepening Improvisation: Do This Every Time You Learn a New Melodic Pattern

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Part of the work in studying improvisation is what I call “feeding” our ears and imagination. In essence, this involves learning and practicing new patterns and sequences.

These patterns can be anything from simple, diatonic melodic movements, to more harmonically complex polytonal statements that you’ve discovered in a jazz etude book, to very particular “licks” that you’ve transcribed from somebody’s solo.

All good.

And all things that will ultimately increase your improvisational vocabulary.

Whenever I give a lesson to any intermediate to advanced improvisers, I typically find that they are already practicing patterns on a regular basis. (I can hear it manifest itself as part of their improvisational “vocabulary”.)

Yet far too many of them are not doing one very important thing each time they learn a new idea, lick or pattern:

They’re not singing it first, before playing it.

As simple as that.

I begin to suspect this based upon what I hear in their playing, which in general, sounds like they are somewhat disconnected to the notes they are playing. In short, it sounds like they’re not playing so much from their aural imagination, as from mechanical memorization.

As I start asking questions, I often find that they also don’t do much singing in general as they practice improvisation.

And that’s where we begin to change their practice aims and procedures.

You see, there is a very good reason all the legendary jazz artists would learn so much of their vocabulary by ear (and why this learning tradition is carried on by today’s great artists and educators).

It all comes down to how you think and react.

When you think of a melodic idea in a mechanical sense (such as, “root, to flat 5, to 4, to flat 3, to natural 3, to root”, for example), your brain organizes how you’re going to play that idea (your reaction) in a fundamentally different way than if it emerged from your aural imagination.

When you practice patterns from this more “mechanical” organization, it not only takes a good deal of time to “get the notes under your fingers”, it also takes a long time to find its way into your natural, organic improvisational expression.

On the other hand, when you are able to hear clearly and precisely how a melodic pattern sounds, you will not only get the notes under your fingers in a shorter amount of time, but you’ll also be able to access the pattern more readily as you improvise.

And here’s the bonus part:

When you learn patterns primarily by hearing and imagining them, you become much more flexible with how you use them. This means that you easily learn to make variations on them in the moment when you improvise (which, in many ways, is the essence of improvisational variation).

By using you ears in this way you turn patterns into components of aural imagination and impulse. This becomes the fuel that privides energy and movement for your improvisations.

When you first start learning patterns by ear, it can seem daunting. It might take a lot of time to learn even the most rudimentary melodic patterns (like 1,4,5, 3 in major keys for example).

Keep in mind that you get better and better at doing this (meaning faster and more accurate) the more you practice it. And also keep in mind that you can start simple, building upon your skill.

But here’s the bottom line:

No matter whether you discover a new melodic pattern (or lick, or sequence, or idea, or fragment, etc.) that you want to learn from a recording, or from a notated source (such as a transcription or jazz etude book), get in the habit of doing this one very simple, very important thing:

Take the time to sing the pattern with 100% accuracy before you take it to your instrument to work on it. Don’t just approximate the general “shape” of the pattern. Know it from note to note in its entirety.

Sing it in at least one key, but sing it until you have confidence that you imagine and hear it with vivid clarity. Let it go deep inside of you.

It is never time wasted.

And even if you’re practicing patterns from a book that presents a particular melodic pattern in all 12 keys, take time to sing the pattern in an iteration that fits within your vocal range. Then start wherever that is on the page and work each of the other keys of the pattern using your “singing key” as a starting point.

Doing this regularly will help you to play and absorb the pattern in the other keys more readily and more deeply.

It’s a matter of turning the somewhat abstract (the notes and sequence of the pattern, lick, etc.) into something a bit more concrete (your expression).

And when that happens, you’re on your way to expanding and personalizing your own unique improvisational voice.

Is Improvisation Really Just “Spontaneous Composition”?

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Yes. (to answer the question in the title)

And no.

Yes, in that you are most certainly generating musical ideas. And yes, these ideas contain what can be referred to as “compositional elements and principles”. And yes, when you are a skilled improviser, you are often constructing a solo in a cogent, “compositional” manner.

But to describe improvisation as “spontaneous composition” is an incomplete (and sometimes inaccurate) description of the improvisational process.

In the most fundamental sense, the difference between improvisation and composition comes down to a matter of conscious deliberation.

Take human speech, as an example. The vast majority of the time you are speaking (talking with friends, explaining something to someone, etc.), you are actually improvising.

Sure, you might have a “theme” that you’re working with (maybe talking about where you’d like to eat lunch, for example), but you really aren’t planning, word for word, what you’re going to say. You’re simply following the immediate need to communicate. In essence, you’re reacting in real-time.

Now contrast that with writing something, let’s say for example, writing an essay. Writing gives you a chance to choose your words more carefully. You can take your ideas out of “real-time”, and consciously craft them with the kind of nuance that best suits your intentions.

Musical improvisation and composition have a similar relationship. When you improvise, you are reacting, moment to moment (whether you think you are, or not).

Sure, there might be some kind of narrative going on in your mind as you do so, perhaps guiding and shaping what you play. Nonetheless, it’s still a question of reaction.

And of course, musical composition is similar to composing with words, in that it is more calculated, more pondered upon, more deliberate.

In truth, improvisation involves a largely different neurological process than composing. As neuroscientist and amateur jazz pianist Charles Limb discovered in his research, the main parts of the brain that “light up” for a skilled improviser are the parts that have to do with immediate communication.

Think about that for a moment. The skilled improviser is largely in the realm of attempting to communicate something. More specifically, to connect with the other musicians with whom he or she is playing.

Communication involves not only taking into account the ideas that you have an impulse to express, but equally important, that which you are hearing and reacting to.

Listening is at the heart of it all.

The best, most sought after improvising musicians are those that listen deeply, and respond in accordance to what they hear. (The late, great jazz bassist Charlie Haden comes immediately to mind here!)

And of course, listening is a very active thing to do. To listen deeply is to be fully present. And being fully present in this way provides the wind beneath the wings of the improviser.

And it’s not just about listening to the others with whom you’re playing. It’s also about listening deeply to yourself. It’s about not being stuck in the “deliberation” of your musical ideas at the expense of losing your improvisational consciousness and flow.

Even if you’re playing with backing tracks, or a drum loop, or a metronome (i.e., things that don’t respond to what you’re doing), you need to be listening and reacting to what you hear. This is absolutely primary.

We can sometimes hear the novice to intermediate improviser string one “pre-fabricated” idea into the next seemingly unrelated prefabricated idea. This kind of improvising lacks cogency. There is no “story” being told (as many accomplished jazz musicians might complain).

Again, this is largely (but not exclusively) the result of not really listening in a coordinated and constructive way, of not actually getting into that beautiful realm of communicating.

It’s a matter of getting “stuck in your head”, and not being truly available to hear what you just played, and how the rest of the ensemble is reacting to what you just played. It’s much like holding a good conversation. You listen, to yourself and those with whom you’re speaking, and you say something that has a logical connection to the conversation. (It’s also part of the learning curve as an improviser, so if this describes where you are now, that’s fine; it will only get better!)

But I’ve also heard some highly accomplished improvisers try a little too hard to tell their story.

This often gives them what sounds like a “well-crafted” solo, but perhaps not the most spontaneous expression. It can come off as sounding a bit too compositional (and somewhat self-conscious), as the emotional “arch” of the solo builds with more than a small amount of predictability.

Maybe it’s a matter of balance here, but to me, to “plan” an entire solo seems antithetical to the deeper, neurologic process of improvisation. (I realize that I’m talking here about what my values are in improvisation. I don’t wish to challenge or offend those that disagree or hold other values.)

To paraphrase Charlie Parker: “Learn your instrument. Learn the scales and chords. Learn the tunes. Then forget all that shit and just play.”

I think part of the reason why many of us still get excited when we hear these old Parker recordings, is because that is precisely what is happening. We’re not so much hearing a deliberate “composition” (though it is most certainly, cogently compositional!) as much as we are hearing a highly disciplined musician who is spontaneously following his muse, is listening deeply, and is expressing himself freely and personally.

And so many other great improvisers have expressed similar sentiments. (Sonny Rollins talks about aiming to access the “subconscious” when he improvises.)

So study and think like a composer. Aim to master solid compositional principles. Work with the materials of music constantly, as you find new ways to move musically, and to express your ideas.

But when it’s actually time to improvise, just remember to be open, to listen and react without second guessing yourself. Let your voice emerge and manifest its unique, beautiful truth.