Classical musicians and jazz music

Photo, Andrei Z

I try to be both a classical musician and a jazz musician. This dual pursuit is sometimes detrimental to both sides, but often beneficial, and I enjoy it. I’ve put in serious study, listening, and practice hours with both kinds of music.

Jazz has influenced classical composers enough that classical musicians can’t ignore it—if you’re an orchestral clarinetist, it’s only a matter of time before you have to face Rhapsody in Blue. So it’s not unusual to hear classical musicians, especially in academic situations, address aspects of jazz playing.

It’s disappointing to me to hear classical musicians use pejorative language when describing jazz style, but frequently terms like “sloppy,” “lazy,” “harsh,” or “piercing” are used to characterize its techniques and sounds. In the last few months, some egregious and ill-informed examples of this have appeared in the blogosphere, and I can think of several examples during that same period when I have heard that kind of talk in masterclasses and workshops.

I don’t think that the examples I’ve seen lately were intentionally belittling or snobbish. And, in fact, in some cases the intent seemed to be to express appreciation for jazz music and jazz musicians, but the choice of words betrays some underlying attitudes about the relationship between classical and jazz.

If you’re a classical musician, these are the kinds of things I want you to know about jazz playing:

  • Classical musicians hold themselves to very high—and very specific—standards when it comes to tone. But in jazz, we take what we consider a more open-minded approach. In jazz, the fact that my tone doesn’t meet classical standards doesn’t mean that I’m undisciplined. It means that I’m an individual. I worked just as long and hard to develop my sound as you did. It’s not that I’m unconcerned about my tone; it’s that I’m unconcerned about yours.
  • The unique trappings of jazz style (inflections and other effects) are a complex and nuanced language of expression. When you suggest that scoops and smears can be added to your “jazzy” repertoire piece without properly absorbing and understanding their use and execution in jazz, I find it insulting to my craft and unpleasant to listen to. Can you imagine a musician untrained in Baroque style telling a room full of attentive students, “just put in some trills and stuff?” The results would be, um, unconvincing.
  • The same goes for swing. There’s a popular myth that to swing simply means to play eighth notes with a triplet feel. If you take the time to really listen to some good jazz (an hour with the Count Basie band is time well spent), you’ll quickly find that the triplet approach is inadequate for reproducing the subtleties of jazz rhythm. You’ll also find that swing is more than a rhythmic thing—it has a great deal to do with phrasing and articulation. Be aware that these things are not accurately expressed by the notation in your excerpt book.
  • There’s nothing careless, loose, or facile about jazz playing. I personally find that in many ways (not all ways) jazz is more mentally and physically demanding to play than classical music. For jazz playing, I need all the control, precision, and focus that I need for classical music, but with a much wider expressive range. I need the ability to do all the poised, graceful, and delicate things that classical musicians pride themselves on, plus a whole world of other sounds that you won’t find in Beethoven (or even in genuinely jazz-influenced composers of the twentieth century onward). Oh, and I often do these things while improvising—performing a spontaneously-composed melody in real time.

What I’m getting at is that playing convincingly in a jazz style (even setting aside improvisation) is as complex and subtle an art as playing classical music, and to do it well requires dedicated study. And that it’s a mistake for classical musicians to think of jazz as a charmingly primitive tribe that could be civilized by airlifting in some etude books.

I encourage musicians of all stripes to be curious, open-minded, and respectful about each other’s art.

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  • Practicing, boredom, and guilt

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    But things got better. I gradually developed better ideas how to practice, and started to see results from it. My progress motivated me to get back into the practice rooms even more, and over the next few years practicing became my favorite part of the day.

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    As a teacher, I have tried to be sensitive to this problem. I find that my students who struggle with practicing are sometimes afraid to talk to me about it, and want to brush aside talk of their declining practice hours with thin excuses about having a “busy week.” But if we can address the problem honestly and openly, I can offer some suggestions to help them enjoy their practice time more and get more out of it.

    I don’t think that there is a one-size-fits-all solution for practice room boredom, but in general I think these are some good starting points:

    • Put practicing on your daily schedule, and stick to the plan. It’s tough to scrape up enough enthusiasm for practicing when it’s the thing you have been putting off all day, and now it’s the only thing standing between you and some much-needed sleep.
    • Be goal-oriented in your practicing. Make a list of things that need improvement about your playing, and tackle a few things during each practice session. If you’re not sure what needs improvement, be sure to take good notes in your next lesson—as a teacher, I consider it my primary responsibility to help students hear what they really sound like, and what they could sound like. Or, don’t wait: make a recording of yourself (a smartphone makes this super easy), listen back, and jot down a few things that need work.
    • Don’t just try to improve your playing, work on improving your practicing, too. It’s an art form of its own. Soak up new practice ideas from your teacher, your classmates, and anywhere else you can find them. (Here are some of mine.) And, of course, invent your own.
    • Know your limits. Personally, I find that I can give about ten minutes of good, focused attention to a practice task before my productivity starts to decline, so I switch tasks at least that often. If I haven’t perfected something within ten minutes (and usually I haven’t), I’ll come back to it later with fresh energy. Figure out your own attention span and work with it, rather than against it.
    • Be honest with yourself and with your teacher about how your practicing is going. I guarantee your teacher can relate. She or he will probably have some great new ideas you can try, but might not know yet that you are in need of them.
    • Ride out the tough patches. Even once I started to get better at practicing, there still were (and still are) days when I just don’t feel like it. But there are lots of things in my life that need to be done that I don’t always feel like doing, and I still seem to manage. Sometimes the hardest, most tedious practicing seems to happen right before a breakthrough.
    • Start. I asked one of my students once what he found to be the hardest thing about practicing. He looked me in the eye and said, “Getting it out of the case.” Once he had his instrument assembled, he explained, it wasn’t so hard to just start practicing.

    You know practicing is important, and you love to make music. If your practicing is making you miserable, don’t give up on it! Make it fun and productive.

  • Getting an “outsider” opinion

    bassoon
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  • |

    Q&A: The big picture

    Disclosure: As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases, at no cost to you.

    Here are some of the questions readers sent me in celebration of this blog’s 10-year anniversary. I have edited, combined, and otherwise adapted some of them but hopefully there are answers here for those of you who were kind enough to inquire.

    Why does music move humanity so profoundly?

    My personal belief is that music is divine in origin, and that there is something inherent to humankind that responds to music. Since I believe that everyone is a child of God, I suppose the love of music is a divinely-inherited trait. Leaders in my faith have said, for example, that “Music is given of God to further his purposes,” and observed “Music is truly the universal language, and when it is excellently expressed how deeply it moves our souls.”

    If that’s not your style, you may prefer Darwin’s speculation that the earliest attempts at human language were more like musical gestures than like words. An ability to relate to these sounds is at the foundation of language in the more modern sense, and thus underlies virtually all human experience and culture.

    In any case, even as a faith-plus-science kind of guy, I’m definitely out of my depth here, so feel free to share your theories in the comments.

    Are applied music studios in higher education sustainable considering the supply of music graduates exceeds available employment?

    There are issues here for sure. I can only vouch for my own approach:

    Most of my university students are music education majors, and where I live this does seem to be sustainable. My graduates for the most part are able to land and keep jobs doing what they are trained for: directing middle school and high school bands.

    Many of my students at some point inquire about the degree in performance. If they are interested in that route and have the skill to pursue it, we have a long talk about the career path of a performance major. Essentially, a bachelors degree in performance qualifies you for one thing, entry into an masters program. The masters qualifies you for a doctoral program, and that qualifies you to teach in higher education and perpetuate the cycle. We talk seriously about the prospects for employment in higher ed (slim).

    On the other hand, a college or university education isn’t a trade school certificate—it is meant to produce a well-rounded citizen of the world, with literacy in key fields of human thought and skills in areas like communication and critical thinking. If a prospective student wishes to study the art of musical performance for reasons that are not necessarily 100% practical, then I would like to see that opportunity available to them. Schools and students should be clear with each other about their goals, so there isn’t any confusion about, for example, guarantees of employment.

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    When will woodwind makers deplete resources of grenadilla/mpingo wood?

    I don’t know the answer. My understanding is that these woods are not in danger of extinction, exactly. But the culling of the tallest, straightest specimens for products like oboes and clarinets has potential to cause an evolutionary bottleneck, since only trees that are unsuitable for instruments (because they are curvy, for example) are left alone to reproduce.

    I think that the inevitable conclusion to this is alternative materials for instruments. This will be a tough sell for some musicians, but will ultimately be for the better. If modern science can develop amazing new materials for everything from mobile phone technology to medicine to space travel, why not for music? I’m confident that the “wood”-wind instruments will continue to exist in materials that are more sustainable, stable, affordable, crack-free, ergonomic, and beautiful-sounding.

    Why does the principal oboist tune the orchestra?

    Tradition. We have methods of providing a reference pitch that are far more accurate and reliable than even the best oboist. But the ritual is a comfortable one.

    There are lots of additional theories. I’ve written previously about why a bunch of these don’t make sense, and that post continues to draw comments largely based on questionable understanding of “overtones.”


    Thanks for your questions! These are some tough ones.

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  • Why do some instruments transpose?

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    To get the what across, I usually have to resort to an example: “Okay, so it works like this. If I am playing an alto saxophone, and I see an F-sharp on the page, I think ‘F-sharp,’ and do the correct fingering for F-sharp, and then I blow into the instrument and an A comes out.”

    Sometimes a visual representation is useful (here are transpositions for some common woodwind instruments):

    Instruments Written pitch Sounding pitch
    Piccolo
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    Up an octave
    Clarinet in E-flat
    Down a m3

    Up a m3
    Flute, Oboe
    (non-transposing)
    Bassoon
    (non-transposing)
    Clarinet in B-flat, Soprano saxophone
    Up a M2

    Down a M2
    Clarinet in A
    Up a m3

    Down a m3
    Alto flute
    Up a P4

    Down a P4
    English horn
    Up a P5

    Down a P5
    Alto saxophone
    Up a M6

    Down a M6
    Contrabassoon
    Up an octave

    Down an octave
    Tenor saxophone, Bass clarinet
    Up a M9

    Down a M9
    Baritone saxophone, Contrabass clarinet in E-flat
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    Down an octave and a M6

    This system is, shall we say, “difficult:”

    • Composer/arranger/copyist: “What was that transposition for alto flute again? A fourth, I think, but was it a fourth down or a fourth up? Or was it a fifth?”
    • Conductor: “Let’s see, the alto saxophones have an E and a B, the tenor has a D-sharp, and the baritone has a D-natural. So that chord would be, um…”
    • Educator: “Okay, everybody play a B-flat scale. I mean, ‘concert’ B-flat. So C for clarinets and tenor saxophones, G for altos and baritones, E-flat for English horn… or is it F for English horn?…”
    • Gigging musician: “I need to buy the fakebook in E-flat. Hmm, and I guess I also need the B-flat, in case I play clarinet on anything. I wonder if I’ll need the C book for flute, too? Wait, let me make a phone call.”

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  • How to write boring program notes

    Things to include in your program notes for maximum boredom:

    • More than a sentence (two, tops) of general biography on the composer.
    • Unremarkable facts about the piece’s structure (sonata form! key of F!).
    • A blow-by-blow description (first there is a kind of sad theme! it starts out low and soft but then it gets higher and louder!).
    • Unfounded judgments about the piece or composer (this is one of the greatest pieces in the repertoire! the composer is truly a genius!).
    • Explanation (excuses and/or bragging) about how difficult the piece is to play, or inside baseball about playing technique (this piece goes way up into the third octave! the performer has to use triple-tonguing in this one spot!).
    • Show-offy or obscure terminology, especially if it’s not part of your usual vocabulary and there’s a chance you are using it wrong.
    • Length greater than a slow reader can get through in the breaks between pieces.

    But if you prefer program notes that are less boring, I guess you could try these:

    • Stick mostly to biographical information that relates specifically to the piece being performed.
    • Stick mostly to language and content that is accessible to someone who is new to this kind of music and nervous that they won’t get it.
    • If you must describe the piece to your audience, imagine you are writing program notes for a movie instead. Don’t give away the ending or the celebrity cameos or the plot twist, and don’t give a scene-by-scene breakdown. Give just enough to pique their interest.
    • If the piece itself is likely to be challenging or inaccessible to your audience, give them a sense for what is interesting about it. (For example, explain in two or three simple sentences about 12-tone serialism or microtonality or minimalism.)

    If you’re a student writing program notes as an assignment, you might have to hit a certain target length, include specific information, cite sources, etc. If you’re a teacher assigning those things, consider that maybe what you really wanted was a book report or a theory paper instead.

    Generally, program notes should give an intelligent but not necessarily musically-trained audience a few things to help them enjoy the performance more, without feeling like homework. Be ruthless about trimming away anything that doesn’t contribute to that, and don’t be afraid of brevity.

11 Comments

  1. Good points.

    Indeed, someone who thinks that scoops and a rigid triplet feel makes him (or her) into a jazz musician would stand out as badly as someone at a classical concert dressed like Lady Gaga.

    It’s a feel (I like the analogy with Baroque music), and there’s no substitute for listening.

    Geoff

  2. I really appreciated this post. I was trained in classical playing much more than in jazz playing. I had some of these same thoughts when I first started my jazz studies. Needless to say I have and still do struggle greatly.
    Many people do not realize, but Jazz in many ways takes just as much dicipline as classical playing does. I found it particularly had to be disciplined in practicing my improvisation. I really appreciate the points you made in this post, and I think if any musician truly studies someone else’s art, there is always more to it than what meets the eye.

  3. Preach on brutha! Some great insights here. I actually think that the best classical musicians out there tend to have great respect for jazz – like Arthur Rubenstein coming out to the small clubs to hear Art Tatum back in the day.

    Also, thanks for linking to my “marching band scoop” video, glad it made sense. :)

  4. Bret – this is a great post. One that I will definite share. As someone who started in the classical world, and who’s taught many students who started in the classical world, I can appreciate what you’re saying.

    My favorite line is “It’s not that I’m unconcerned about my tone; it’s that I’m unconcerned about yours.” which is so true. And the image of “airlifting in some etude books” made me laugh out loud. You should make a web comic. :)

  5. What year is this? 1939? I’m surprised that this discussion is still going on. Aren’t most players today products of the university systems and therefore having largely the same educational experience (classes, instructors, classmates)? Obviously not, and Bret, you’d be the guy to know. Still, in a way, it’s kinda comforting that this still comes up.

  6. Very well stated, Bret. Both genres have there demands. I think we all agree that jazz contains the element (on-the-spot composition AKA improvisation) that most (although not all) classical music does not.

    I think both genres are great to listen to and perform. I do not consider myself to be a jazz musician not a classical musician, but simply a musician, capable of performing both. Maybe not at a level of someone who spends his/her time specifically on one, but at a level that is personally satisfying and one that allows me to play in a wide variety of settings.

  7. On the topic of classical musicians respecting jazz, I recall seeing a biographical show on Sir James Galway (woodwind content!). Near the end of the show, Galway mentioned that improvisation was a complete mystery to him and he was trying to learn it.

    So he was trying to learn to play the Blues.

    Using canned backing tracks.

    It was really enlightening to see someone as great as Galway, struggling with something I find so basic. (Don’t worry, it won’t go to my head. I’m not even 1/30 the musician Galway is. :-) )

  8. I have this professor in college, that always tells us “Jazz should not go with students training in classical music” (I am a drum major). I totally disagreed. I mean, having a leverage of what not to do and what to do is a leverage of the musician. Note movement will be the same regardless of style. And knowledge on both Jazz and Classical makes it more astounding. I totally agree that respect should be there…regardless of what style you want your listener to hear. Very nice article Brett.

  9. I think the two art forms shouldn’t even be compared logically and not doing so removes any offense or insult either way.

    Saying that classical musicians only focus on tone and that jazz musicians are not interested in their tone is tantamount to classical musicians saying that jazz consists of a crapload of scales and tritone embelishing and that classical musicians don’t care for your tritones, dominant sevenths “runs” etc.

    Let call a spade a spade and say that the two are so far removed it is arrogant for someone from the one art form to profess that the other is less expressive, less complex etc because you can only understand expression if u understand the form and the medium. Many believe classical is a genre that is under developed and stopped some 100 200 300 years ago’ depending on level of ignorance.

    I am a classical musician and classical musicians can be flexible mastering other genres in fact I have heard from many jazz teachers even that some of the best jazz musicians were classical musicians as they add a certain amount of sensitivity to the music. Others will argue that this is just not true. The truth is there are classical musicians that do want to branch out and learn jazz and those that don’t want to. Similarly there are jazz musician that want to branch out and those that don’t and there is humility as well as snobisdhness on both sides of the fence.

  10. Yeah, I am also surprised that this debate is still going on. By now I feel that the majority of classical musicians who don’t understand jazz do respect it, and even admit that jazz musicians can do things on their instruments that classical players can’t.

    But it really is comparing apples to oranges. The two fields are so different that you can’t say a player in one is superior to a player in another, or that one music is harder, better, or superior. And the tone debate? Some of the most beautiful tones I’ve heard have come out of a jazz horn. But a beautiful jazz tone is different from a beautiful classical tone.

    I’ve worked in both genres and while I find a classical snob every now and then who looks down their nose at jazz, I know that true musicians know how to respect and even admire something good that they’re not familiar with. At the end of the day, though, the two styles have a lot in common: You need to have mastery of your horn, you need to listen to the masters of your instrument, and you need to practice.

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