One of the ways I seem to be able to help myself as a musician (as well as my students!) is to take time to clarify the details involved in playing music. Sometimes a problem remains unsolved simply because the musician in question hasn’t addressed one small element sufficiently.
Though of course this is an issue that can hold back musicians in any genre, I’m thinking here specifically about how this affects the improvising musician.
In the last couple of years I find myself going back to deeply examine and practice what might seem to be very basic musical material.
For example, I’m getting an even deeper intimacy with my diatonic scales, practicing all kinds of different melodic patterns and their variations. No passing tones, no chromatic outlining, just simple diatonic music in major and minor.
It’s been wonderful for me to discover how much music can be made from just using these materials.
In turn, when I improvise on any type of music, whether harmonically based (chord changes), thematic, modal or even completely open-ended and free music, I have found a wealth of beauty and surprise.
Just to be clear, I did spend a good amount of time in the past “mastering” my scales and arpeggios (the diatonic material), but I never went as deep as I could have.
And as the years progressed I worked less on these diatonic materials and more upon chromaticism, symmetrical tonalities, intervalic based (non-diatonic) melodies, and so forth.
And that was great! It opened up my thinking and playing to help me find my voice as an improviser (After all, these, too, are essential musical materials).
But as time passed I began to experience some dissatisfaction in my improvising.
Through reflection and careful observation, I came to realize that my melodic language was lacking in a certain kind of possibility of colors and melodic shape. For me to address this, I realized I had to go deep into the diatonic language again.
As I began to explore this, I realized that I didn’t have the conception/ear/execution mastery of this material that I really needed. So I started to listen to (and study) great diatonic melodies (lots of Bach, lots of beautiful folk melodies from around the world!) and worked on getting some of this material inside of me.
I would find a particular melodic passage that really moved me, then put that passage into all twelve keys. I would also make variations on these melodic ideas, and spend a good amount of time improvising slowly in order to crystalize these new ideas.
I also took time to work on singing and playing ideas that I imagined myself, in order to connect my muse to my instrument. I’m still working on this diatonic material nowadays, but with more complexity (e.g., rhythmic displacement and variation, complex meter, etc.)
The long and short of it is that I’ve gained a certain kind of precision and clarity with this material that I just didn’t have before.
In essence, I stopped approximating. Because of this my entire improvisational language has been significantly expanded and enriched.
So, this post isn’t really about the value of doing all this diatonic work. It’s about going deeply into the musical material to gain control over your medium. For me that meant revisiting and deepening my control over diatonic material. I had to stop approximating.
Where do you approximate when you improvise?
Is your control of time strong and clear? How about your articulation?
Is your sound meaningful and beautiful on each note that you play?
Is your rhythmic imagination rich, or is it still mostly the language of endless eight notes?
Is your phrasing free and spontaneous, or are you stuck in two-bar symmetry as you improvise?
Do you take full advantage of the range and color palette of your instrument? How broad is your harmonic knowledge?
To go deeper into the music, you must gain precision. This means really being able to control the materials of music. Ask yourself where you are approximating when you improvise, then make a practice plan to bring you into the rich and beautiful world of precision and clarity.
I actually borrowed this “stop approximating” slogan from the great pianist, Bill Evans. Mr. Evans had a remarkable tone, clarity and conception in his playing that always sounded immediate, spontaneous, beautiful, thoughtful and passionate. This was reflected in his approach to practice.
Here’s the video below of him elaborating on this topic. Enjoy:


