Dan Jacobs: Writings

ARTIST REVIEW: by Bob James about trumpeter Dan Jacobs

Quite obviously, Dan Jacobs is the man with the experience who can really drive things home as a jazz soloist.

He shows how you can start with just a brief statement, which lets people know that you’ve got the ball.

And then it becomes a little miniature composition, which, the way this arrangement was played out, it has to build.

Dan took his time, he knew that there was going to be the moment when the background ensemble was going to come in underneath, which is sort of a built in crescendo in his solo, so he saved some of drama of it for when the background stuff was coming in. I loved that!

- Bob James, a mainstay of the contemporary jazz scene since the early ’70s, keyboardist-composer Bob James has released 38 solo albums, won two Grammy awards, and topped jazz charts as a member of the super-group Fourplay.

FINE WINE and the FUTURE OF JAZZ
(note: a must-read article by guitarist Tyra Neftzger - Dan J.)

Jazz fans are different from mainstream music fans. We all know this. But while watching the movie Sideways, it struck me that jazz fans and wine lovers have something in common: they’re both connoisseurs. Many wine lovers don’t care for Merlot because it has no terribly distinct or exciting flavors—the same way that many jazz fans feel about pop music, Kenny G, or what is currently being referred to as “smooth jazz.”

SOME COMMON GROUND
As connoisseurs, both wine lovers and jazz fans have similarities. For example, both appreciate workmanship and artistry. They understand that many of the qualities they value can’t be mass produced. It takes some individual attention, time, knowledge, and creativity in order to produce a fine wine or jazz piece.

Furthermore, these connoisseurs tend to have sensitive palates that are alert to subtleties. In fact, if you look at the terms used to describe either fine wine or jazz, you’ll notice a few similarities. Words such as “texture,” “body,” “warmth,” “flat/sharp,” “color,” and “harsh” have been used to describe both jazz and wine. This is because connoisseurs are sensitive to differences that the average person may overlook. There are a number of styles within jazz, just as there are different varieties of noble grapes used for wine making. Each of these has its own distinct characteristics that help to define it. A true jazz fan knows the difference between Coleman and Coltrane the way that a wine lover can tell a Cabernet from a Pinot Noir without looking at any labels. Those with the most wine expertise may even be able to tell you the vineyard or region simply by tasting the wine. However, to the average individual the music would simply sound like a saxophone or the wine would simply look red. A connoisseur has intimate knowledge of what makes each variety unique.

A NOTE FOR MUSICIANS
For those of you reading this who hope to make it in the jazz industry someday there is a lesson here: jazz fans are some of the most sophisticated of music fans. I won’t lie to you: jazz venues can have some of the most difficult audiences. But these events can also have the greatest of audiences—when you give them what they’re looking to hear. Jazz fans appreciate and prefer complexity. These music connoisseurs also enjoy creativity, originality, expression, and feeling. Yes, your audience wants to know how you interpret the music and how you feel because emotion is a big part of what gives jazz flavor. Playing simplified rhythms and repetitive phrases is likely to leave your audience unfulfilled—so put a little more into your music or look for a pop venue. Jazz fans want substance, not ear candy.

A LESSON FOR ALL OF US
Looking at the jazz industry by comparing it to a business outside of music has a few advantages. While not all the elements are equivalent, the fact that these are both niche markets has some insights for all of us. A lot of discussion has taken place surrounding whether or not pop music has squeezed jazz out of the market and into possible oblivion. If you look at the wine industry you can see that fine wine production still exists, even though table wine continues to outsell these more sophisticated wines. People will always be thirsty, but some of these people are connoisseurs. While boxed wines or Kenny G may generate incredible revenue, there will always be those consumers who want more. These are the people for whom jazz artists continue to make music: the connoisseurs.
- Tyra Neftzger,
email: neftzger@comcast.net

(note: I have follows the career of this wonderful pianist for years. This piece of writing is as good as his playing. Check him out!)
- D. Jacobs

SOLO JAZZ PIANO
by Larry Loftquist

My first public performance on piano was back in 1958 on the Boblo boat sailing down the Detroit River. I was 12 years old. A young bongo player and I had worked up some improvisations to perform on this summer field trip. The announcer asked what we were going to play and I told him nothing special. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m proud to present Larry Lofquist playing one of his own compositions called Nothing Special.”

Little did I realize at the time that this kind of playing would be putting bread and butter on the table for so many years
I began playing solo jazz piano, or “cocktail piano,” as it’ known in America, with the notion that the music should sound like what was heard in the exclusive restaurants of Hollywood films. In the early 70s I moved from Detroit to Boston, where I found the East Coast version, with the likes of Teddy Wilson, Dave McKenna, Bob Winter and Ray Santisi filling the plush lounges of the Copley Plaza, The Playboy Club and The Four Seasons with strains of melodious jazz served up their way. It was a music steeped in the traditions of ragtime, swing and stride. The songs belonged to Gershwin, Cole Porter, Earl Warren, Matt Dennis and a host of lesser known songwriters whose hits graced the Top 40 of yesteryear. They played 6 nights a week and we loved it.

Cocktail piano is played so that the audience can either listen to each set as a concert, or can tune in and out as he or she wishes. It is a malleable, plastic art that changes form to fit the changing audience--spontaneous, a conversation with the conversation-at-large. A gentle swing or Latin pulse usually fits well, although one should be a master of rubato playing. In short, cocktail piano is best described by John Lewis’ definition of jazz—a delicate balance between art and entertainment.

The greatest challenge of playing “cocktail piano” is playing to an audience who for the most part expects you to play as if you weren’t there, or one who expects the songs to sound like the record. There is a constant coming and going of people, with drinks being ordered, ice being crushed or coffee ground; folks requesting a tune that you’ve just finished playing, or interrupting to ask what it is you’re playing. Someone always wants to play—usually someone who should be listening. If you get louder, the room gets louder, and when you stop, if it’s not carefully engineered to draw applause, they can get uncomfortable.

While cocktail piano has always been an art form that looks to the past, there was once-upon-a-time a “standard repertoire” that has shrunk considerably in recent years. And while the hush of conversation and the clinking of glasses can enhance a mood, the cell telephone can easily damage it…

My own repertoire includes the aforementioned “American Songbook” as well as the Brazilian songbook, jazz classics, some pop and original tunes and a pastiche of spontaneous improvision in between.

My first engagement playing cocktail piano was at the Officers' Club in Leavenworth, Kansas. My longest was 15-plus years at the Renaissance in Vienna, and the most anticipated was a private party in Manhattan's Upper West Side for New Year's Eve, 2000. My favorite was probably the Clark Cooke House in Newport, Rhode Island. At 9:00 sharp, two waiters removed a tiny out-of-tune spinet from under the cash register, and it was show time! The place was always alive and bussling. The lighting, the ambience, the atmosphere and the sea-side location made for an outstanding gig.

September 9, 2004

Hello Jazz lovers, wherever you are! I continue to be a fly on the windshield of the jazz industry. (HA!)

I presume you know that Bud Shank was fired from his post as founder and guiding light of the Bud Shank Workshop in Port Townsend, WA. He has been the 'man' there for 25 plus years, assembling one of the best teaching ensembles ever!
But now they want a younger man with young ideas! Outsourcing the wrong guy folks! It only takes forever to learn this music thing and even longer to come to terms
with this jazz thing. And they want a younger guy.

Any damn fool can play when they are 20, or 30, 0r 40, 50, 60. But try cutting the mustard when you are in your late 70's! Now anyone that can do that has acquired knowledge that no younger person can ever hope to learn.

The jazz existence, or any existence is not about getting somewhere it is all about the voyage.

No one can ever master life, only experience it and contribute something to making the world a better place to be an artist. ARTIST is the key word. If you want to be a practical musician, great. Get some gigs and
have a good life. But if you want to be a jazz musician, the requirements are more stringent.

An awareness of world culture is a good place to start! Learn something about food and wine, learn a language, read a book,
paint a painting, see an O'Neal play, stare at a sunset. Write a Rondo for heaven's sake- be somebody.

And no matter how long you do it you will barely touch the surface of this passion called life, the jazz life! You have to be a warrior-Bud Shank is a warrior! A tough one who has survived. What he has to teach is incalculable to measure. And they want a younger guy. How about Norah Jones to teach jazz singing ? Yeah! Right! Bud and I have been doing many gigs together, Toronto festival, North Sea and others.

We broached Concord Records to try and secure a one shot record deal for Yoshi's in November. They said that instrumental music doesn't sell anymore! Imagine! A company founded on instrumental music, great music, decides that it doesn't sell anymore.

I am mad as hell and will continue to rant and rave about these things until my last breath.

Culture in America is going to hell in a hand basket. (I love that saw -
don't know what it means but love it still.) Keep the song alive. Until next time stay well. And thank you for being a part of my thing!

Phil Woods

THE STATE OF JAZZ
By Senior Editor Dr. Rick Holland

"Jazz is one of America’s great artistic contributions to the world. In fact, this genre has spread worldwide, and there are many festival concert venues in Europe and Asia that sell out from it’s enormous popularity.

In America, this is not always the case. Despite college educational programs producing more “Jazz” majors than anytime in recent history, the question becomes, what happens to all of these musicians who have begun the long journey of mastering a craft that only few really attain to? What are some things they can look forward to?"

(NOTE: this is just the beginning of a great article by Rick Holland, trumpeter and writer. The full article can be viewed on his website at:

http://www.jazzradio247.com

Just go to the website and click on "rick holland" it is definitely worth reading in full)

WHY AMERICANS DON'T LIKE JAZZ
By Dyske Suematsu | Sep-17-03

The current market share of Jazz in America is mere 3 percent. And, that includes all the great ones like John Coltrane and the terrible ones like Kenny G. There are many organizations and individuals like Winton Marsalis who are tirelessly trying to revive the genre, but it does not seem to be working. Why is this? Is there some sort of bad chemistry between the American culture and Jazz? As ironic as it may be, I happen to believe so.



The other day, I was having a conversation with my girlfriend about the new TV commercial by eBay where a chubby lady sings and dances to an appropriated version of "My Way" by Frank Sinatra. They entirely re-wrote the lyrics, and, instead of "my way", she sings, "eBay". I said to my girlfriend, "They did a really good job in adapting the original song." Then she had a sudden revelation: "Ah, that's why I like it so much!" She actually did not realize that it was based on Sinatra's song.



My girlfriend and I have always known how differently we listen to music. I tend to entirely ignore lyrics, while she tends to entirely ignore music. We are two opposite ends of the spectrum in this sense. I often would remark to people how I like a particular song, and my friends would look at me like I am crazy. After a careful listening of the same song again, I realize that the lyrics are shamefully tacky. The opposite happens often too where many of my friends love a particular song, and I can't understand what is good about it until I pay attention to the lyrics.



The eBay example is an extreme case where, stripped of the lyrics, she had nothing to recognize it by. Change the lyrics, it is an entirely different song to her. But it would be the other way around with me. I would be less likely to notice that the lyrics have been changed. With the eBay tune, I only noticed it because she sings aloud, "eBay". If it weren't for that, I probably wouldn't have noticed that the lyrics were rewritten.



My girlfriend and I represent convenient stereotypes of the Americans and the Japanese in terms of our musical orientations. I know why the Japanese love Jazz so much. Since we grew up listening to songs in various foreign languages (especially English), in essence, half of what we hear commonly is instrumental. When you don't understand what the singer is saying, he/she might as well be just another musical instrument. Most Japanese people have no idea what the songs are about when they are listening to Madonna, Michael Jackson, or Britney Spears. Our ears are trained to listen to instrumental music. This is in fact true with most other countries where they cannot escape the dominance of American popular music.



On the other hand, especially with the advent of music videos, the American ears are getting lazier and lazier. Not so long ago in Western history, most people knew how to play a musical instrument or two. Now the vast majority couldn't tell the difference between a saxophone and a trumpet. The American culture is so visually dominant that given a piece of music without anything visual associated with it, most people's eyes wander around nervously, just like the way a nervous speaker doesn't know what to do with his hands. In the USA, music cannot stand on its own. It must tag along with something visual. Otherwise, people would not know what to do with it.



And, it is not just the visual dominancy and the under-developed ears that are problems. The American audience does not know what to do with the concept of abstraction. They do not see or hear something for what it is; they have to symbolically interpret it. The value lies only in the interpretation, not in what it is. Even though aesthetically there are no significant differences between a painting of, say, Mark Rothko and one of Monet, the former is utterly unacceptable for many people while they consider the latter to be a master. The difference is that in Monet's paintings, you can still see things represented in them: rivers, trees, mountains, houses, and so forth. The viewers interpret these objects, and project the beauty of nature into the paintings, which makes it easy to appreciate them. Given a painting by Mark Rothko, there is nothing they can mentally grasp on to. The minds that are incapable of grasping things beyond interpretations, do not know what to do when nothing is represented in what they see, i.e., when there is nothing to interpret. In Rothko's paintings, there is nothing more to them than what they are. If you cannot accept them as what they are, they completely elude you.



The same happens to instrumental music. If there are no lyrics, if there is nothing for the minds to interpret, projecting of any emotional values becomes rather difficult. On the other hand, as soon as the lyrics speak of love, sex, racism, evil corporations, loneliness, cops, etc., suddenly all sorts of emotions swell up. Jazz to most people is like a color on a wall; unless you hung something on it, they don't even notice it.



On top of all these problems, Jazz has its own problems. The form of Jazz no longer has anything compelling to offer. If you push the form too far, what you get is Cecil Taylor. Although I love his music, I'm not sure if I would call it Jazz. Other than the symbolic similarity of instruments and the fact that it is improvisational, his music has nothing in common with the stylistic structure of Jazz. (Also the fact that he is Black is another superficial resemblance.) To call something Jazz just because it uses the instruments commonly used in Jazz, and because it is improvised, would broaden the definition of the term so much to the point that it would lose its meaning. Jazz, in this sense, did not die. What died is not the musical spirit of Jazz, but the word "Jazz", and nothing else. The word "Jazz" should be dead, because we have already moved on. Those who insist on playing "Jazz" in the traditional stylistic sense of the word are equivalent to those who reenact Civil War as a recreation. There is nothing wrong with having a little fun, but don't expect to make any compelling artistic statement through it. Playing "Jazz" is not playing music; it's playing musicology.

Songwriting: Method or Madness?
Cary Kilner, pianist, educator, Ph.D. candidate

I am a songwriter, but I cannot produce on demand like a commercially successful one. I must have a need – a start – a germ of inspiration from which I meticulously craft a composition. I have carefully observed this process in myself and thus established my own route to song writing.
My songs do not contain lyrics or story associations, hence are not commercially viable. They remain solely in the realm of pure music, which is primarily the domain of the jazz musician. He plays a song as a statement, then uses it to take off on improvisational flight, weaving his own melodic variations over the harmonic structure, making his own unique contribution to the composer and celebrating the song.
Jazz improvisation consists of a continuous stream of “surprises.” This is in marked contrast to the music of the classical composer, who wishes to have his music reproduced faithfully each time it is performed, allowing only for slight variation in tempi and dynamics as interpretation. His “surprises” consist of his creativity in manipulating the composition – how much has he stretched the boundaries of the formal musical form within which he is working. After repeated hearings his compositional originality remains, but the piece becomes predictable.
The pop song, though seemingly less formally constrained, is
extremely limited in length, and strictly follows a song-writing formula of simplicity and repetition. The pop-music listener wants predictability. Once he is familiar with a hit song, it must remain exactly the same on the air and in live performance so he can recognize every bar of the song. Its surprise comes from the “hook,” that something fresh and different from other songs that firmly establishes the song as a hit (more about the hook later).
After repeated listening, however, an “ordinary” hook itself can become excessively trite and boring because it does assert itself so predominately. This is especially true when the hook device is utilized in slightly altered form in another pop-song in the attempt to use a successful formula to create another hit. However hooks in the service of geniuses, such as Stevie Wonder and The Beatles, gloriously stand the test of time.
How does one write a song? I can only describe my own experience. Most interviews with songwriters emphasize some version of the “inspiration comes knocking” theme. I never knew I would write until my first song emerged. Every subsequent song has evolved the same way. I’ll be noodling at the piano, just playing around with chords and little improvised lines when a fragment of melody will jump out at me and catch my ear. I can never purposely produce such a segment -- it must come by itself as the muse emerges. Once I have this thematic material, a formal process of working the song out can commence.
I will play the fragment over and over, trying to extend it backward and forward while seeking an interesting and logical chord progression that fits it (although sometimes an engaging chord progression comes first for which I try to find a melody). I keep in mind the aesthetic principles of contrast and tension-release. After I obtain a whole segment (8, 12, or 16 bars) I ask myself: does it want to repeat or does it lead towards a new section? I can modify the chord progression to do either.
The typical pattern is derived from classical sonata-allegro form, AABA. Other common forms are ABAC, AABB, ABA, and AAB. (Sometimes the sections are of equal length; sometimes they are varied in length for variety.) Therefore I must always come up with at least a B-section with a contrasting melody once my original theme is completed, in order to fill out the form of the song.
After I have established the form and completed the entire melody and harmony it is time for embellishment. Although it is not absolutely essential, an introduction is aesthetically pleasing and a nice complement to a song. Therefore I may write a short line to lead up to the melody and set up the song harmonically. After the head is played (the name given to the complete melody in a Broadway song or jazz composition), one can write a brief interlude to set up the soloist before he begins at the top of the form. This serves to give a little reflective space in anticipation of the improvisation to follow. After the soloists perform, the melody is usually restated without alteration (this is called the out-chorus).
In popular music, instead of a whole chorus of improvisation, there is usually just one short section of instrumental solo (the “lead-break”) on the A-section, to contrast with the vocal melody. Then the vocal returns in the next 8-bar section. Some popular artists play the identical break each time it is performed live; other artists do, in fact, improvise it (e.g. Stevie Wonder, James Taylor, Steely Dan). Often on the recorded version the lead break will be replaced by a written section of embellished melody, played by a single horn, guitar, or ensemble. It is always brief, and is followed by the remainder of the vocal since, to make radio play-lists, a song must be short (2 1/2 – 3 minutes), tight and concise.
For my songs as well as for pop-songs there are two ways of ending a performance. Instead of playing the last few bars of the song we can use a coda – an altered melody that serves to draw the song to a logical conclusion. Or we can write an ending itself, which is tacked on at the end of the whole melody.
I consider good introductions, interludes, codas, and endings very important to the songs themselves, giving them great variety and contrast. Every song, however, need not have all three, two, or any one of these form extension devices. Sometimes these devices are not conceived of with the song, rather they will come to me as an afterthought, or the jazz interpreter may add them to his own performance.
Another useful device is the vamp, which can serve as an introduction, part of the tune or head, part of or in place of the form for improvisation, or as a tag ending to the out-chorus. It consists of a repeated rhythm pattern on either one chord (a stagnant vamp), or on two or more chords alternating over two, four, or eight bars. It is a useful device with which to offer contrast to the song and to build tension, by holding the harmony and melody still while the rhythm can develop in intensity.
The rhythm feel for the song is usually determined by what I was playing when the song first originated. The best way to finalize the feel or groove is to play the song with different rhythm sections and not define the feel precisely beforehand, but rather see how various musicians interpret it, later selecting and specifying the most interesting and effective rhythm to use for a particular context.
Taping the song as it evolves is a very useful way to explore variations of melody, form, and rhythm. In fact, many hit songs have been written in just this way, by the so-called “jamming” method, in which the song evolves as a group effort of building it up from snippets played in the studio.
By studying popular music you can see the presence of a hook in those songs that have become hits. I have found that the hook really cannot be predetermined or contrived in order for it to be effective in my music; it must arise spontaneously. Part of the challenge for the A&R man (the record company executive in charge of selecting material), is to recognize and identify a potential hit by its hook, and then successfully promote it to the record-buying public. Sometimes a song chosen will be performed by its composer; other times it will be used as a vehicle for interpretation by some other established artist, who may be thought to have a better chance of gaining an audience for the song.
In the case of jazz compositions, the hook is not a deliberately designed musical device whose purpose is ultimately to sell records. Instead we can say that it is a very specific reflection of the musical personality of the composer, and is often a very subtle feature. I have analyzed my tunes to determine the particular device in each song that represents the hook. It may be an odd chord change, a recurrent rhythm figure, a particular jump in the melody line which repeats, a unique harmonic device, or an out-of-the-ordinary bar in the structure.
Cumulatively these devices constitute my compositional style. I can similarly identify the styles of my musician friends, as well as those of recorded jazz artists, since their writing generally follows the same process. As a song is written, the brain, heart, and soul interject little differences from the standard form at various places that furnish variety and interest without veering too far away from convention. One can always tell when a tune has been written intellectually because the deviations from the norm sound contrived, and the overall effect of the song is jarring, hard, and harsh, rather than warm and pleasing, and it is very difficult to construct a logical and musical solo over it.
Cary Kilner

(Note: I love this interview! She states exactly how I feel about jazz in particular and music generally. The whole interview is definitely worth reading)
- Dan Jacobs

You can read the whole interview online at: http://www.jazzreview.com/article/review-4631.html

An excerpt from a Maria Schneider interview by John Dworkin for jazzreview.com

Maria Schneider - I just can't stand when I'm listening to music and it just feels like you're just sitting in the same place. I like music that takes me on a trip. I want to grab people's attention and take them on a ride, you know? That's how I feel. Music should be like a ride, and really make it so people just completely get absorbed in that. That's what I want my pieces to be, to bring you into a little world. They either make you feel like you're flying, or make you just... Who knows what, but that they grab you.

I don't want people sitting and listening to my music and saying (mock voice), "Oh, that's interesting." (laughs). That's why I get so tired of jazz that's just so complex, measured, metric and - impressive. You know? I'm not looking to impress anybody. I'm looking to move people. What I like is when people say, "Wow, I was just taken away, " or "The concert went so fast because I got so involved." Or if there's a person who's just a very intellectual person and their favorite piece ends up being the prettiest piece, or the simplest piece on the program. That's nice for me to hear because it means you're bringing people out of their heads and into their hearts. That's what it is. I want my music to bring people out of their heads and into their hearts so that the most intellectual musician sitting there is no longer analyzing what I'm doing, but I've brought them out of that kind of head space.

I think that's where jazz has lost a lot of people and actually lost itself in a way. So many people think that going further and further is getting deeper into the head. It's not. That's not where this music came from. This music came from the heart. And that's not to say that music can't be complex. But when music is complex for complexity's sake, that's where it runs into problems.

JazzReview - I'd agree with that. There's a lot of that going around. Though there's a few guys that I can think of in particular who are able to write relatively complex harmony, or metric things...

Maria Schneider - ...and have it be something... you feel they're not doing it for that reason.

JazzReview - Yeah. It's still personal. There's people around who can do that, and I hear that.

Maria Schneider - But the bulk majority of what's coming out these days is not that. I think there is a trend - more and more people are realizing that maybe the next step in their music is simplicity. And that doesn't mean dumbing it down. Not at all. That's not what I'm saying at all. It's a hard thing to describe but anybody recognizes it when they hear it or see it. In art too.

JazzReview - Yeah. For me it has to feel like it's personal. If it gets complex but it's still personal, which I think some of your stuff is like, then it's... Well, using words like these is kind of weird sometimes, but it's honest, personal, and real. As opposed to just trying to go through an exercise. Whether you're a musician or not, you can usually feel whether that's going on. Whether it's really a personal statement or not. Sometimes that's in the composition, sometimes it's just in the blowing. Depends on the artist.

(Editors note: I read this interview with Marvin Stamm in ITG Journal recently. I was struck with how similar my own concepts about music, teaching and life are with what I read from master trumpeter and teacher, Marvin Stamm. So I'm including a few quotes that resonated with me to help spread the message even further.) - Dan Jacobs

"As a musician you never really reach your goals. Every time you approach that point, you find that your goals have changed, moved farther out, and expanded to something else.

A CD is, or should be, the musical documentation of where an artist is at a certain point in his or her musical growth. Many artists lose sight of this and view a CD as their path to stardom. Not only is this an erroneous concept, it will also lead to great disappointment in most cases.

The recording industry is, and has been, in great disarray for a number of years, especially regarding the jazz idiom. Be true to your music and let that lead you where it will. Don't ever sacrifice the integrity of your music.

After achieving a certain level of mastery, focus more on the making of music rather than that of focusing on just the trumpet. We have an enormous number of "super technical" players today, but a smaller number of true musicians. Maybe it is now considered an outdated concept, but the lesson as I learned it was - always - the music comes first.

I intend to maintain my honesty in the face of a world that seldom appreciates honesty, and to encourage others through my music and my writings to do the same. As long as this is what my life is all about, it will have deep meaning and much joy for me.

Expectations and responsibility - two very important words in my life - are words you don't hear much today - in society, in families or in school. But for me, they were a source from which so much emanated. If these words were again invoked into family life and into the schools of our great country - in fact all of society today - what could we not accomplish? And maybe solutions to so much that we find of great concern to all of us might appear."

- Marvin Stamm
Quotes from an interview in International Trumpet Guild Journal Vol.29, No. 4 June 2005
Website: www.trumpetguild.org

FINE WINE and the FUTURE OF JAZZ

Jazz fans are different from mainstream music fans. We all know this. But while watching the movie Sideways, it struck me that jazz fans and wine lovers have something in common: they’re both connoisseurs. Many wine lovers don’t care for Merlot because it has no terribly distinct or exciting flavors—the same way that many jazz fans feel about pop music, Kenny G, or what is currently being referred to as “smooth jazz.”

Some common ground
As connoisseurs, both wine lovers and jazz fans have similarities. For example, both appreciate workmanship and artistry. They understand that many of the qualities they value can’t be mass produced. It takes some individual attention, time, knowledge, and creativity in order to produce a fine wine or jazz piece.

Furthermore, these connoisseurs tend to have sensitive palates that are alert to subtleties. In fact, if you look at the terms used to describe either fine wine or jazz, you’ll notice a few similarities. Words such as “texture,” “body,” “warmth,” “flat/sharp,” “color,” and “harsh” have been used to describe both jazz and wine. This is because connoisseurs are sensitive to differences that the average person may overlook. There are a number of styles within jazz, just as there are different varieties of noble grapes used for wine making. Each of these has its own distinct characteristics that help to define it. A true jazz fan knows the difference between Coleman and Coltrane the way that a wine lover can tell a Cabernet from a Pinot Noir without looking at any labels. Those with the most wine expertise may even be able to tell you the vineyard or region simply by tasting the wine. However, to the average individual the music would simply sound like a saxophone or the wine would simply look red. A connoisseur has intimate knowledge of what makes each variety unique.

A note for musicians
For those of you reading this who hope to make it in the jazz industry someday there is a lesson here: jazz fans are some of the most sophisticated of music fans. I won’t lie to you: jazz venues can have some of the most difficult audiences. But these events can also have the greatest of audiences—when you give them what they’re looking to hear. Jazz fans appreciate and prefer complexity. These music connoisseurs also enjoy creativity, originality, expression, and feeling. Yes, your audience wants to know how you interpret the music and how you feel because emotion is a big part of what gives jazz flavor. Playing simplified rhythms and repetitive phrases is likely to leave your audience unfulfilled—so put a little more into your music or look for a pop venue. Jazz fans want substance, not ear candy. A lesson for all of us

Looking at the jazz industry by comparing it to a business outside of music has a few advantages. While not all the elements are equivalent, the fact that these are both niche markets has some insights for all of us. A lot of discussion has taken place surrounding whether or not pop music has squeezed jazz out of the market and into possible oblivion. If you look at the wine industry you can see that fine wine production still exists, even though table wine continues to outsell these more sophisticated wines. People will always be thirsty, but some of these people are connoisseurs. While boxed wines or Kenny G may generate incredible revenue, there will always be those consumers who want more. These are the people for whom jazz artists continue to make music: the connoisseurs.
- Tyra Neftzger
http://www.allaboutjazz.com/php/article.php?id=17921

Hadyn is 49 years old and worked for years as professional photographer. He has done covers of magazines such as EasyRider (the only one I've seen so far). He had an accident and a portion of his leg was amputated. He is a man of relatively few words except here in his journals.


Making life worth living.
We do it each day, in all sorts of ways.
From new cameras (Horai) too old friends.
Picking up a camera had to me at times,
become a curse.
A darkness that surrounds me.
Walking in Shadows.
Going from amateur to Pro I lost my hunger,
Along the way it turned into work, and my work suffered for it. Never
touching a camera unless I was being paid for it.
I have in a word,
Become hungry again,
and I intend to feed.
At the banquet table we call life.
I welcome it with all of its faults and failures,
lust and vigour, love and compassion,hates and fears
as that is who and what I am.
I do not fear someone's hate, only their silence.
When you look into the eyes of a dead man or
one who wishes that he were,
"The Well of Souls" I call it.
Some call it the Thousand Yard Stare.
Human beings have so many emotions, the capacity to love is equalled only by
the capacity to hate?
Yet in all those empty nights and days it has been my friend, The Camera and
a cigarette.
That Camera that has pushed me on and off across these years at its will.
Has taken the pain anger and remorse
washed my sins in a bath of light,
That I might stand once more, brush off the dust
Wipe the tears from my eyes, only that;
I might focus for one more time.
The miles of walking hunting.
The days spent hunting always hunting.
Towards the East.
In conflict and strife have I ever been at home.
I have been away too long.

Dan, Richard, Frank, and my sister, Kate,

Please indulge me! I can't stand it any more! You four are among those of my friends who can appreciate my level of intolerance and indignation at this current state of affairs because you, too, are sensitive, intelligent and deep thinkers, you seek rationality, and you, too, just cannot believe what is STILL happening!

I just can't stand it!
-- the continued passive acceptance by our populace, AND the Congress, of this administration even now, after Katrina, after billions thrown away/lost (370 tons of cash, announced today) in Iraq, after the torture and Abu Grave and Guantanamo, after the eavesdropping, after ignoring the Commission Report and proposing MORE troops and money, after that little Cuban kid, after that sordid affair with the woman on life support --

What TOTAL incompetence! How can it still be tolerated? How can this guy be considered the World's leader?
How can all of his minions continue to be allowed to operate freely and to represent us?

Yeah, some people are finally starting to make noise, but where were they when our soldiers stood around while the Iraqis looted their museums of priceless items from antiquity!
THAT'S when I knew we were going to hell in a handbasket as a country, at least until 2008!

I was really surprised when the Democrats actually won the midterms, because I totally expected Karl Rove to have some dirty tricks up his sleeve and throw the election.
Then when that unfortunate Senator from Nebraska had a stroke I thought we were really done for --

You, too, are ashamed of our country, and of the multitudes of people around the world who now harbor ill will towards us as we continue on, day after day, with this guy running things and committing unthinkable and egregious lapses in judgment that would not be tolerated in our families or boardrooms!

I'm afraid that most intelligent people, including our senators and congressmen, have just become inured to the destruction this administration has wrought upon our country.
The "man on the street" carries on his daily business as if this were the normal state of affairs. WHOA!
Whoa!

We four have certainly seen our share of governmental ignorance and malfeasance, but we have also seen administrations with dignity, especially that of JFK, who brought a national spotlight to the arts that continues today.
But the contrast with ANY other administration and this one is all too stark --

Every day I turn on NPR and watch PBS, not in a macabre desire to wallow in bad news, but because I am hoping beyond hope to see that final nail driven into George Bush's political coffin -- BEFORE he leaves office!

To have him leave relatively unscathed, and with this mess behind him for the next guy/girl to clean up, is the epitome of ignominy! How can he even think about a "legacy?"
How can he even be considered beside JFK, Eisenhower, Carter, Lincoln, even Johnson or his father?
Whatever Clinton's personal faults and foibles, at least people thought of Americans during his administration as having some intelligence.

And so I truly believe, and you can hold me to it, that SOMETHING is going to break, the s___ is going to hit the fan before he leaves office -- sooner, I hope, than later (even though that means we get Cheney, but whatever happens he's gone, too, and we'll get Pelosi).

Whether you believe in karma, or the Bible (you reap what you sow), or even in nothing cosmic, something is going to go down -- mark my words -- before Jan '08.
That means any day, folks, not when Congress or the Senate get around to it --

He will either commit ONE more intolerable act and cross the Rubicon for the masses, or something hidden will FINALLY come up and the country, in one huge fell swoop, will rise up and throw the asshole out with all of those who kowtow to him!
So keep watching and listening to the news -- it's coming!

Dan, you can edit and post this if you'd like.

I hope you all liked my missive, but I also hope Big Brother doesn't read this or you'll have to come bail me out ---
Best,
Cary

DAVID BERGER ON POP AND JAZZ
(note: following is a short clip from a great article in All About Jazz by David Berger. I encourage you to read the whole article by this great trumpeter/educator)


Regardless of what I see on television, on the Internet and in my daily life, I cling to my mythical world and all its best values. I am unshakable. I belong to a diverse subculture called jazz musicians. The world doesn't particularly want us. After all, we challenge people to look deep inside themselves and strive for excellence--not always a comfortable feeling.

http://www.allaboutjazz.com/php/news.php?id=12136

QUOTE: FROM BOBBY SHEW
Hi Dan,
Did you know that the tune, "CAN'T
STOP THE CRYING" ... was written as a tribute to Blue Mitchell? I wrote the tune "BLUE" just after he died and this one about a few
months later. Both have nice lyrics as well, if you're ever interested. I can see why you would gravitate towards it after 9 / 11 . It's written harmonically right at the grief tone level. The album it was on (SHEWHORN) was never a CD. the
company (PAUSA) went belly-up and the masters were lost, a "cryin" shame".

Of coure, you can quote me if there's something there that you want to use. OR, I can write something else if you prefer. Lemme know. Bobby

ESSAY: ON PLAYING, PERFORMING
by Jessica Williams, pianist

The truth is that there are no practice techniques, no miracle drugs, no mantras, no shortcuts to creativity.

I'm very fortunate to be playing on only very fine instruments now.

On the recently-completed Fujitsu tour of Japan, I played Steinway 9- footers, and had the option of using a Bosendorfer Imperial King. I stuck to Steinway.

I like a piano with a strong bass, mellow treble, and a high end that doesn't 'scream.'

Baldwins are too slow, although every piano is different and I've encountered a few friendly Baldwins.

Never trust a white piano, or a piano with no middle peddle. The middle peddle constitutes 50 percent of my (new) approach, and I'm always horrified to walk into a hall and see a piano with only two pedals.

I always remove the music stand as I sometimes sporadically reach inside the instrument to strum or pluck or damp strings.

I usually raise the top to full-stick, and, if a piano is less than 7-ft, I'll close the flap before raising the lid. (I joke that it makes the piano 'look bigger', and it does, but it also gives me more sound for where I'm sitting, as the overhang deflects the sound down and around me.)

Since grand pianos always 'open to the right', your right side is the side that audiences will always see.

So this is the side of your face that will break out before a concert. This has no bearing on pianos, but seems to be a universal law, like gravity.
Interviews

Talking about music is like having a meaningful discussion on religion: I'm not sure it's possible.

Art is a different experience for everyone, and no two people hear music in quite the same way.

And another interview fave of mine- 'Where do your ideas come from?'

Actually, most of them come from a place within me that I know very little about.

There might be a specific name for the place in question, like the terminus striata of the medulla oblongata, or Fresno, but I can't say.

Some things are not meant to be understood.

Questions about how much practice- time I put in daily always come up.

I try to explain that music to me is an organic event, a biological activity, a flow of event and nonevent, a melting into the fabric of time and space.

I usually wind up just settling for: 'not enough!'

Truth is, I never really 'practice' (although, listening to Benny Green is enough to scare me into it).

I play at home. I listen all the time, mostly to the 'giants': Dexter Gordon and John Coltrane and Monk and Sonny Stitt and Sonny Rollins and Miles, Earl Hines and Erroll Garner and Elvin Jones and Paul Chambers ... so alot of what you hear when you hear me play is from what I hear and have heard and absorbed (subconsciously) all of my life.

Their music is the very fabric of space and time, for me.
Nerves

Some musicians have the 'jitters' before a performance. And nervousness during a performance can be painful to the artist and audience alike.

Conversely, a stoic, laissez-faire, disconnected attitude can equally mar a performance.

I've seen musicians play who were so laid-back they were clinically dead.

A few 'butterflies' is a plus, I think. If playing for an audience doesn't excite or enthuse you, you may have lost that spark that grabs people's attention and holds it. And most folks can relate to a little 'settling in' period at the beginning of a concert. They know that, if it were them up there, they would be quaking in their boots.

Nervousness is different than excitement, though, and can get in the way of self-expression.

Several ways I've found to overcome it when it hits me (and, after so many years of performing, it still does, occasionally):

Having a really UP conversation with a friend on the phone or in person just before you go out there to play. It opens up your communication skills, and allows you to carry that 'up' feeling onto the stage. Playing IS communication.

If the audience is particularly uptight (sometimes you get 'nervous nights', where everyone is a little on edge), I usually do or say something to put us all at ease. It may be nothing more than looking at the piano for a second and murmuring, 'let's get her on the road and see how she handles', or removing the music stand in front of the audience, or fussing with the height of the piano bench.

Sometimes I walk out, rub the instrument lovingly, and say 'I'm HOME!' Each concert presents a special opportunity for that instant of relaxation. (Tripping over a microphone cord works too.)

Never drink or take drugs to 'take the edge off'; it doesn't work for long, and the playing suffers.

I also do a chant (Buddhist) before I play, backstage and alone.

When you start to play, and you fall into the right-brain activity, all nerves are gone.

To get to the right-brain place: while playing, with eyes half-closed, look down to the left and up to the right (the optic nerves cross each other) and BREATHE. Soon your body will sway (you won't notice it) and you'll be in the zone. The more you do it, the easier it gets.

Always, always: believe in your own song.
Not Just Notes

I'm occasionally asked where I studied to learn to do what I do; who taught me, what 'tricks' are involved, what secrets enable me, how does the process occur... how does one 'distill magic out of the air?'

The truth is that there are no practice techniques, no miracle drugs, no mantras, no shortcuts to creativity.

I tell them that I've played piano since I was four, that I've played jazz since I was twelve, that I've never taken another job doing anything except what I've always known I should be doing in this life: playing music. And maybe that's a part of the answer, if indeed there is one.

It's about Castenada's PATH, Campbell's BLISS; you follow it no matter where it leads, and over many years you learn to control it, channel it, allow it to happen.

You become the bow, the arrow is the gift.

You never fully own it, just as you can never explore all of its depths, because it springs from the infinite possibilities within you.

In this realm, your only ally, your only guide, is intuition.

It is seeing instead of looking, knowing instead of believing, being instead of doing.

It is Coltrane on the saxophone, Magic Johnson on the court, Alice Walker on the printed page; it is the primary intuition of 'right-brained' activity, the birthing of idea into existence.

Perhaps it cannot be taught, but it certainly can be shared, and it is in the sharing that we all experience the best parts of ourselves.

We instinctively intuit our organic truth; when we learn to live it, our planet could be paradise.

Your dreams are your sacred truth.



For those of you who have purchased my many records over the years and attended my concerts, it's probably obvious that I'm very comfortable on the stage (whether alone or with my band), doing what I do and sharing the magic with the audience. Over the last six or seven years, I've often remarked that the stage is my favorite place to be. I feel totally relaxed and at home, and the more people that attend, the better. And I can just sit there, introduce a tune, and then try to come at it from an angle that will 'say something', both to the audience and to me.

I'm not into this music for ego-gratification or competition, and certainly not for the money(!) Jazz is not a huge moneymaker, as I'm sure you know.

I do what I do because I love it and I do it really well and I'm always trying to learn and grow with it.

Jazz music to me is just MUSIC, because I don't feel that it should restrict itself by putting itself in a box.

And music to me is not about being FAST or about having 'CHOPS':

Anyone who has a few of my CDs knows that I can 'burn' with the best of them. But that's kind of like being a gunslinger: there's always someone FASTER than you.

So over the years I tired of being known as 'the fastest' or 'the coolest'. Frankly, I don't have the edge that it takes to stay in that 'competitive fast-lane' and I don't WANT it!

When Miles started playing his 'NEW' thing, some folks still wanted to hear 'Dr Jekyll' or 'Walkin'' at quarter-note=460.

A Miles quote: 'Man, that's heart-attack music.'

Go, Miles.

So music, to me, is a beautiful language, a form of communication and self-expression that doesn't need to impress the critics or scare the audience half-to-death with pyrotechnical displays of daring-do.

While hardly being Methuselah, I AM too old for that sort of thing. I want to have fun while I play, and I only enjoy playing with others whose primary motivation is to have fun and share the love.

I believe in the power of music to heal, and I believe that each true musician has something special to contribute.

JW 1998

INTERVIEW: MUSIC IS REAL IF YOU'RE REAL
by Jessica Williams, jazz pianist and composer

I like pianists who are musicians first. One of my favorites is Charles Mingus. His album Mingus Plays Piano on Impulse! is one of my favorite piano albums, period. And when I lived in Oakland, CA, I'd go down and hear Buddy Montgomery play piano. He was a vibist, but I loved his piano playing too. He played music. He didn't just play piano.

I'd rather hear Sonny Rollins or Miles or Trane or Monk. Monk was a great pianist and a great musician. A composer too. All these musicians had substantive ideas about what constitutes music. The "greatest pianists" today somehow leave me totally bored. The faster they go, the more numb I become. If it's a live concert, I watch the people. They get bored too. They fidget. Bill Evans never did that to audiences. He had great technique but he followed his internal song. He was never in competition with the other musicians or the audience or himself. And he didn't care about critics.

You can't care about whether you're being profound or not. That's hype. You have to be yourself all the time. You don't put on airs and affectations and try to be heavy. You're just there, and you're there because you love it, and you react. Your reaction is the music. And it's real if you're real. You can wear your bunny slippers and your bathrobe and be yourself, and the truly hip people will be fine with that. The others can deal with it or not. Mostly not, because hype rules this age. Shrink-wrap and phrygian scales and Berklee grads and analytical thinkers. Mathematicians. Math is NOT Music. Math is Math. Math may be an Art to some. Music should be an Art, period.

And, like most activities of this age, Music, particularly jazz, has become hyper-competitive, and therefor fear-driven. So it's an Alpha-male pursuit, with pro-sports rules, and the attendant locker-room mentality on and off the playing field. All they need is a ball.

QUOTES: ON MUSIC AND LIFE

"All great music is hypnotic, and startling, and tragic, and deeply moving. It should change your life upon hearing it. A good concert should make you weep at least once.

So that's the thing: good music should change your life upon hearing it."

"And then I play the music that is already in the air waiting to be born. I can't ever tell you what it will be. It's always different."

"All great music is hypnotic, and startling, and tragic, and deeply moving. It should change your life upon hearing it. A good concert should make you weep at least once.

So that's the thing: good music should change your life upon hearing it."

"Miles had this thing that you had to have PRESENCE. And the only way to do that is to BE YOURSELF."

"Is jazz dying? That's a loaded question! If nobody plays it, it's dead. But it's ALSO dead if everyone plays the same old same old forever and ever."

THE DEVELOPMENT AND INFLUENCE of the Double Bass on the Music and Composers of the Late 18th Century

By Jerry Cameron

Double bass performance demands
have changed over the years and
evolved to a point where it is now an accepted solo instrumentdemanding the highest degree of virtuosity.

Composers of the late 18th century were writing pieces for large
ensembles creating a need for a more pronounced bass presence.

The current instrument of the mid 18th century was not adequate for the new task at hand. The violone, up thru the mid 18th century, sounded an octave below and was used in support of and often
doubling the cello part. The construction of the violone was such that it had to be played
gently and without the force necessary to create the volume required by the ensemble.

The violone was reconfigured in order to accomplish this task emulating the violin in construction still sounding an octave below the cello. The early role of the double bass still continued to be that of doubling the cello part, but the set up of the instrument, i.e.
bridge height, and string material, made the instrument very awkward to play simple lines and, in most cases, would not permit the doubling of the musical lines of the more agile cello. The available string material of the time was called catgut. The strings were made from the intestines of sheep or goats but could be made from the pig, mule, horse, but not the cat. There are two thoughts on the name catgut, first; the term cattle back then meant all forms of larger four legged farm animals encompassing the cow, goat, sheep, horse etc. and would relate to the material from which the strings were made, and secondly; the word for violin string could have been kitgut from the ancient word “citara” or “kitara” meaning guitar. The catgut strings were very flexible and, when put onto the bass and bowed, had to be mounted at least 3 inches above the fingerboard. As the note was played the string would flex when pushed into the fingerboard and the pitch would vary depending on the distance from the fingerboard making playing in tune a challenge.

The strings were also very susceptible to climate changes. They would absorb moisture

and change pitch or dry out, requiring a treatment of linseed oil or cocoa butter. Over a

period of use, they would stretch out of proportion becoming too thin and thus created a

false pitch. To prevent this, the player had to loosen the strings at the end of each

performance to increase the life of the string. The earliest mention of the modern day

wire wrapped string is 1664 in an advertisement at the back of John Playford’s

“Introduction To The Skill Of Music.” The evolution of this new technology would start

infiltrating the string instruments, but very slowly because the word would have taken

quite awhile to circulate and catgut would continue to be the accepted medium until a

method of production was created to mass produce the wire wound strings. Johann

Samuel Petri (1738-1808) noted in his Anleitung zur praktischen Musik, Leipzig 1782,

the improved manufacture of strings over spun with metal wrapping by means of a

special spinning-wheel machine that held the strings perfectly stretched during the

winding process. Reportedly, this device prevented the strong wire used for winding to

cut into the underlying gut when it expanded. Such damage was fatal to the string which

then unraveled and became useless.1

The bassist of 1750 to 1850 had definite physical issues in regards to producing

the written parts on their instrument. The gut strings, height of the string above the

fingerboard, lack of standardized schooling and technique, and no leadership within the

bass section led the bassist to maintain an unmotivated attitude and to find the easiest

way to play any part deemed too difficult to play. The instrument was the cause of much

physical pain in the left hand when played due to the string height. There was a


1 Paul Brunn. A New History of the Double Bass (Belguim:200)

considerable amount of pressure required to press the string into the fingerboard and the

strings would cut into the fingers. To counter this many bassists wore gloves to protect

the fingers of the left hand, and to help the fingers hold down the sting they would

compress all fingers to play one note forming a fist like grip per note and sliding from

one note to the next. There could be no agility when playing in this matter. This was

called “simplifying the part” and was a common practice around the turn of the 18th

century. One of the various problems with simplifying the part was that it would not be

uniform amongst the 8 to 10 basses in the section so you would have several different

interpretations of simplifying the part and a very muddy sound. Hector Berlioz (1803-

1869) wrote in ‘De l’instrumentation de Robert le Diable’, in GMP,12 July 1835,

“Now this is what the simplifiers do; When a note is to be played eight times in a bar, in the form of eight quavers, they render only four crotchets; if the four crotchets are written, they reduce them to two minims; and when there is only a semibreve, or a single note to be sustained throughout the bar, they attack the note and drop their bow right after the first beat, as if their strength had suddenly failed them. If you are expecting some effect like that of an energetic scale rising from one octave to another, don’t count on it, for it is nearly always transformed into four notes chose at the whim of the performer from among the eight composing the scale. Was that a tremolo you wrote? As this movement is somewhat tiring for the right arm, the simplifying double bass player will do it in a few dreadfully heavy and fatuous notes, and you should consider yourself lucky if he does not reduce it to a mere sustained note, thus transforming quivering, feverish agitation into a dead calm. May God keep us from thieves and simplifiers! It seems, in certain places, that Mr. Meyerbeer fears simplifiers, since the double bass part, which is prevented from following the cellos note for note by the speed of the rhythmic pattern, is interspersed with very short, skillfully-placed silences which facilitates play. However, the author may be sure that his precaution is in vain: if his double bass part should fall into the hands of simplifiers, they will reduce it even more and God only knows how! Simplifiers are always nearly always simple folks, and since, in the words of the gospel, the kingdom of heaven is theirs, I can’t help thinking that they really ought to go and take possession of it as soon as possible.”

From the above passage it is easy to tell that Berlioz was not going to tolerate lazy

bass players and was encouraging others to do the same. Bassists were being put on

notice that they either needed to learn to play the parts as written or else they would be

dismissed from the orchestra. This helps explain the poor reputation bass players had at

the turn of the 18th century. They did little to instill confidence in their instrument or their

ability to play it. They were referred to as ‘hewers of wood’ and ‘drawers of water.’2

Charles Burney (1726-1814) is quoted as comparing the playing of the double bass

throughout Italy as being no more musical than the stroke of a hammer.3 The sentiments

of Charles Burney are supported by a German traveler in Italy during that same time,

‘As for the double basses they play badly everywhere in Italy. No fingering (they let their hand slide on the fingerboard, even in the runs), no clarity of tone, no power, etc. Meant to energize the orchestra, this important support consequently sounds muddy, even when there are eight or ten double bases in a large theater.’4

The double bass image and its players were in desperate need of an overhaul. The

requirement for a central bass player figure to step forward and demonstrate that

virtuosity can be achieved on this instrument was apparent. This need was more than

adequately fulfilled by several members of the bass playing ranks in Vienna, Italy, and

London during the mid to late 18th century. There were two main players that can be

considered the pioneers of double bass virtuosity, these are Friedrich Pischelberger

(Vienna 1741-1813), and Domenico Dragonetti (Italy/London 1763-1846). These two

men were the leaders in establishing the bass as a lyrical and harmoniously beautiful

instrument that could play with enough force and agility to satisfy even the most

demanding of bass parts handed down by the most famous composers of their era. In

fact, it can be shown that their performance capabilities were able to influence the writing

2 Charles Marie Widor. Technique de l’orchestre moderne (Paris:1904)
3 Charles Burney. The Present State of Music in France and Italy (London:1773)
4 Allgemeinine Musicalische Zeitung of Leipzig,28 Apr.1813,’Schreiben eines Italiens reisenden Deutschen,vom Ende Februars’.Col. 282-3

styles of W. A. Mozart, Haydn, Beethoven, Rossini, Capuzzi etc.

One of the first important recognitions of the violone, soon to develop into

the double bass, was by Leopold Mozart after his first trip to Vienna. He wrote the

following remarks to the double bass article in the second edition of the Violinschule:

One can bring forth difficult passages easier with the five string violone, and I heard

unusually beautiful performances of concertos, trios, solos, etc. (on this instrument).5

This is significant because of the influence that Leopold would have had on his son

Wolfgang. As Wolfgang grew up he would have known of the confidence that his father

had in the Vienna trained bass players. His awareness of the capabilities of the double

bass would have led him to feel comfortable in composing music commensurate with the

abilities of those players within the realm of his influence.. Friedrich Pischelberger was a

member of Emmanuel Schikaneder’s Friehause theater orchestra at the time Mozart

wrote The Magic Flute. This orchestra held the very best performers on all instruments

and voice that were in the area, and Mozart had his friends in mind when he composed

Per Questa Bella Mano (K612). This piece was specifically written for Fraanz Gerl (bass

voice) and Friedrich Pischelberger, and even today stands as one of the greatest

challenges to double bass virtuosity. This piece would have been noted by other

musicians and composers alike and not only raised the performance expectations of the

double bass but opened new doors previously thought closed to the composers of that

time. Haydn, wrote his double bass concerto (since lost) in 1763 at the time when

Pischelberger would have been 21 years old and in the prime of his performance style. It

should also be noted that Pischelberger was also a member of the Episcopal orchestra at

5Alfred Planyavsky translated by James Barket.Chamber music in the Vienna Double Bass Archive, http://www.earlybass.com/chamber.htm


Growardien from 1763 to 1769. His fellow bassists in this orchestra were Carl Ditters

von Dittersdorf (1739-1799) and Wenzl Pichl (1701-1805). He was the first to perform

the concertos of Dittersdorf and was the instructor of Johann Matthais Sperger (1750-

1812).

Domenico Dragonetti was the best know of all the double bass virtuosos of

the era 1750-1850. He was from Venice, Italy and expressed an early interest in the

double bass at the age of nine. He dedicated himself to learning his new instrument and,

by the age of twelve, he was performing in public with a violinist named Nicola

Mestrino. At thirteen he was the principal double bassist with the opera bufa in Venice

and, at fourteen, held the same chair with the Grand Opera Seria at the San Benedetto

theater.


In September of 1787 at age twenty-four he auditioned for, and was accepted by, the

orchestra in the Chapel of St. Marks in Venice. Within his first year he was offered, and

accepted, the principal bassist chair. During that first year he was also offered a position

to play for the emperor of Russia. When the orchestra at St Marks heard of the offer they

generously increased his salary and assisted him in declining the offer. Dragonetti started

writing his solo works for the double bass during this time period. The music he wrote for

double bass was meant to reflect his own capabilities on the bass and demonstrated skills

that only he could master. He had occasion to play for the Queen of Naples and during all

fourteen performances he was to play several of his solo works. His fame as the greatest

double bassist in all Italy spread quickly and the Chapel at St. Marks, not wanting to lose

his talents to an offer for him to go to England, and not return, offered him a guaranteed

salary allowing him time to travel abroad with the promise of returning to Venice to

reassume his position with the orchestra. In 1793 he accepted the position as principal

bassist with the Kings Theater in London and left Venice, still as the recognized leader of

the bass section at St. Marks. When Dragonetti left for England he brought with him his

famous three stringed bass made by Gasparo da Salo which he had recently acquired at

the Convent of San Pedro. This instrument had such a full sound it was compared to the

sound of thunder when he played it for the first time at the Convent. His bass was tuned

in fourths G, D, A from high to low, which allowed him a greater flexibility when

approaching a difficult fingering in a passage of music. The Vienna school of bass also

subscribed to the tuning in fourths with most of the basses being of the four stringed

variety employing the low E as is common with the modern double bass of today. There

were five sting basses with either a high C or low B string, but the overall the popularity

of the three and four string made the stronger presence. In the orchestra section, the

reason for the three string bass would have been related back to the problem of the

material most of the strings were made out of at that time. Having a low E or B string (in

the case of the five string bass) would have proven impractical because the string material

would not have been able to withstand the higher level of tension required to get the

string to resonate. The string, when bowed under any high degree of pressure, would

have collapsed into the fingerboard creating a dreadful crunching sound. The only way to

get this low string to sound would have been with a very light and delicate touch of the

bow and most likely produced a sound that would not have been equal to the other three

strings. Dragonetti’s three string bass is reported to have roared like thunder equally

across all strings and given him a prominent sound. This type of volume was a drastic

change from the soft, mellow tones of the early violone and quite successfully employed

within the orchestra at the Kings Theater in London. The first double basses were tuned

in fifths as the cello was, drawing a clear comparison between the two instruments born

out of the bass doubling the cello parts. The tuning of A, D, G, C was most prominent in

the orchestras of Paris but had several difficulties. The low C string would not have

sounded with equal volume, as stated previously in regards to the other basses (four and

five string tuned in fourths) and the fingerings would have been extremely awkward

employing extra hand shifts to play even the simplest of eight note scale like passages. So

the stage was set to support the current days tuning in fourths, and as the technology

improved in string manufacture the four string bass eventually took the foreground over

the three string variety. It should be noted that Dragonetti played the three string bass

throughout his entire career.

The principal double bassist, through Dragonettis influence, became the rhythmic

corner stone of the orchestra and was typically paired with the lead cellist. Dragonettis

bass created such a forceful and dominant sound that the orchestra would listen to it to

help keep time, this was especially helpful when there was no conductor available. The

principal double bassist and principal lead cellist would be located in the center/front of

the orchestra with the piano, directly in front of the conductor. This was how the London

Philharmonic Society orchestra, Paris Opera orchestra, Dresden Court Opera orchestra,

and Berlin Opera House, had their instrumental seating plans laid out. At the Kings

Theater in London the team of Domineco Dragonetti and Robert Lindly (cello) became

the talk of the town. These two shared a stand together throughout Dragonettis fifty two

year career playing in all the prominent London social circles, including royalty. When in

performance at The Kings Theater doing opera, Dragonetti and Lindly were legendary for

their accompaniment of the recitative. Performing flawlessly and improvising exactly

what was called for in the correct style. It is said that when Michael Costa (conductor at

the Kings Theater from 1780) composed for his orchestra he would take care not to write

a part for the principal bass and cello as they would know exactly what to play, and the

written music would just get in the way.

Shortly after his arrival in London, Dragonetti met Haydn, and the two

became very close friends. He visited Haydn in Vienna in 1799, and again from 1808-

1809. Through his association with Haydn, he was offered a lucrative contract to play for

Prince Esterhazy but turned it down as he felt that it would restrict his ability to travel,

and would mean giving up his position in the London musical circles. Gioacchino Rossini

(1792-1868) was well acquainted with the capabilities of the double bass through his

friend Dragonetti. In July of 1824 Rossini composed a piece for cello and double bass

commissioned by Philip Joseph Salomons, written specifically for Dragonetti, and

Salomon himself an amateur cellist. Rossini delivered a bow of the type that Dragonetti

used and presented the tuning of the bass in fourths to the Paris Conservatoire based

upon the success of Dragonetti, strongly suggesting that when the classes for double bass

began in 1827, that the Daronetti bow and tuning method be employed. During his trip to

Vienna in 1799, Dragonetti had the opportunity to meet Beethoven and play a cello sonata

with him. The following is from the book by A.W. Thayer, Ludwig van Beethovens

Leben, Berlin 1866.

’Two new and valuable, but passing acquaintances were made by Beethoven this year, however-with Domenico Dragonetti, the greatest contrabassist known to history, and Johann Baptist Cramer, one of the greatest pianists. Dragonetti was not more remarkable for his astounding execution than for the deep, genuine musical feeling which elevated and ennobled it. He was now-in the spring of 1799, so far as the means are at handoff determining the time –returning to London from a visit to his native city ,Venice, and his route took him to Vienna, where he remained several weeks. Beethoven and he soon met and they were mutually pleased with each other. Many years afterward Dragonetti related the following anecdote to Samuel Appleby, Esq., of Brighton England:’Beethoven had been told that his new friend could execute violincello music upon his huge instrument and one morning when Dragonetti called at his room, he expressed the desire to hear a sonata. The contrabass was sent for, and the Sonata no.2, of Op.5, was selected. Beethoven played his part,with his eyes fixed upon his companion, and in the finale, where the arpeggios occur, was so delighted and excited that at the close he sprang up and threw his arms around both player and instrument’. The unlucky contrabassists of orchestras had frequent occasions during the next few years to know that this new revelation of the powers and possibilities of their instrument to Beethoven was not forgotten.’

Dragonettis influence is strongly felt in Beethoven’s Fifth and Ninth symphonies where

the bassists even of today are challenged as the passages from both wonderful works are

used as a source of standard orchestra audition repertoire.

The development of the double bass played a major role in the

development of orchestra music throughout the mid 18th to mid 19th century. The

improvements in the mechanical aspects of the double bass have increased the

technological capabilities of the instrument. As the problems with the instrument and its

strings and setup were worked out, the better the bassist was able to play at a higher level

of performance, and as the performance level increased the composers over time wrote

their music with a greater confidence in the bass players ability to handle the part. This

upward spiraling performance standard intertwined with the written music, and the

overall challenge and growth of today’s music, continues to increase in a positive

direction. It can now be seen that the foundation for all this growth goes back to the

efforts of Pischelburger and Dragonetti, two pioneer bassists who chose to put forth the

maximum effort to demonstrate the full capabilities of their instrument, the double bass.




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