As a serious musician you probably spend a great deal of time in the practice room. This is a highly solitary activity. Countless hours refining, discovering, re-thinking, all with the aim of improvement. And improvement you get. But have you ever noticed that no matter how well you play in the practice room, that’s there’s are some people that you just don’t play well with?

I’m not talking about people who obviously don’t have decent musical skills. Of course if you play with somebody with bad time or intonation you’re probably not going to be  as free, relaxed and present with the music as you are playing with better musicians.

But have you ever played with one or more musicians that actually do have a great deal of skill, but that you just can’t connect with them as you play? This is a question of rapport (or lack of rapport!)

My dictionary defines rapport as, “a relationship of mutual understanding or trust and agreement between people.” I like this definition, because it consistently describes my relationships with the musicians I like playing with.

One such musician is Christopher Garcia. He is literally one of the most complete and versatile musicians I’ve ever played with. He makes remarkably complex and beautiful jazz on the drums (melodic, intense, yielding) , Indian classical music on tabla (he’s been seriously studying Indian music for over 30 years), contemporary classical music on the marimba, pre-columbian Mexican music on hand-made instruments, and practically anything else in between. (He’s also has some serious mojo as a rock drummer!)

Chris has toured and recorded with a plethora of highly recognized musicians from many genres, and can currently be heard as the drummer for the Frank Zappa alumni group, “The Grandmothers.” I’ve known and have been playing with him in a variety of groups for the last 20 years. We go back.

Recently Chris and I started playing duets: just drumset and saxophone. Now this presents as many challenges as it does opportunities to express ourselves musically. We play pieces, sketches, completely free improvised compositions, standard jazz songs…whatever we feel like.

The challenge is to make the music complete and cogent. We haven’t yet recorded anything, but I’m pretty certain that we’re meeting the challenge splendidly. It just feels so right.

He and I have played together in a large variety of musical settings, and have spent a considerable amount of time on the road together. But we’ve never played in this duo format. It had been over a year since Chris and I had played together when I called him to see if he was up to playing duets. He was, so we made a date to play.

The very first thing we played was a simple blues line by Sonny Rollins called “Blue Seven”. We ventured together on a magnificent musical journey, letting our playing fold and unfold around the theme, form, and spirit of the piece we we’re playing. It never felt as if I were leading nor following.

The music simply poured out of us, bringing surprise and delight. I was finding so much new music in me. Even technically, it seemed that I’d transcended my preconceived limits, though at the time, I didn’t care if I did or not.

After we brought the piece to its conclusion, we both smiled at each other, as Chris said, “Gee, it’s like we’ve known each other for years.” And indeed we have, not just musically, but personally as well. We trust each other. We allow ourselves to play together freely and vulnerably. Our collective playing adds up to more than the sum or our parts. (sorry for the cliche, but it’s really true!)

And I realized something that I come back to over and over: I can practice  until I’m blue in the face, but I’ll always play beyond my preconceived capacity when I’m playing with musicians with whom I have rapport.

This principle, I believe, applies to all musicians. We’re not just components that we plug in to each other at gigs to make music. (Although to survive professionally we need to be that, too.) We’re human beings with real human connection. The stronger this connection, the greater the music.

Here’s a brief video of my friend Chris performing with the great violinist Harry Scorzo. Chris is using chop sticks to play percussion on Harry’s violin, striking the strings that Harry’s not playing. (Seriously! Harry and Chris also have remarkable rapport). This is a very unique musical statement. I hope you enjoy: