It’s common among non-jazz musicians to think of “swing” rhythms as having a triplet-like feel, and it’s equally common among jazz players to regard that as hopelessly incorrect. That conflict over swing style has been widely discussed elsewhere, so I won’t rehash it here.
But there’s another layer to the swing/triplets issue: It’s important to understand that real swing rhythms are essentially duple. The primary subdivision of the beat is into two parts, even though those parts aren’t equal in length.
So, writing or playing lots of triplets is a common mistake that non-jazz musicians make when they are trying to imitate a swing sound. That’s not to say that triplets can’t or don’t exist in swing rhythms, but they aren’t the underlying subdivision, and in most cases are best used sparingly.
For example, this can be played to sound like an authentic swing/jazz line:
And even this notation, while problematic, can be translated into something authentic-sounding:
But, to someone who knows jazz style well, this one never quite sounds like swing:
It might pass for a shuffle or something else, but it’s hard to make it swing.
When a well-written swing line does include a triplet, a fluent jazz player might play it to sound distinctly un-triplety:
That approach (one of several possibilities) might make sense to a jazz player because they are stretching the downbeat note, and letting the subsequent notes fall later in the beat—a very similar approach to playing a pair of swung eighth notes.
Written or improvised melodies, background figures, drum fills, and other things that are supposed to swing in an authentic way should avoid excessive triplets. Extensive listening and study of great jazz writing, interpretation, and improvisation are crucial to understanding real jazz swing style.
My practicing has evolved quite a bit since my beginner days. In those earliest days as a middle-school band student, my idea of “practicing” amounted to playing the scale/piece/etc. through from beginning to end, generally with a number of mistakes, and then (optionally…) doing it again. I did manage to make some progress, but the results were far from ideal: few problem spots ever really got fixed.
As my musical standards, maturity, and commitment to practice time improved, it became clear that beginning-to-end practicing was not the best use of my time. As I started taking private lessons during high school, and transitioned into university music studies, I began spending more of my practice time focusing on the problem spots. With some work, at least some of those spots got solved, and my rate of progress ramped up noticeably.
At that point, I found myself in the same situation that my own university students now sometimes complain of: they successfully improve the problem spots, but, frustratingly, the “easy” parts fall apart under pressure (in a lesson, a performance, etc.).
For me, the third stage of my practicing development began when I realized the obvious: every part of what I am practicing needs concentrated, methodical practice. If the “easy” parts are falling apart, it’s because I have essentially been sight-reading them in the practice room, and under pressure my sight-reading ability suffers a bit. Instead I need to know every note, rest, and expressive marking intimately. Problem-spot practicing gets me up close and personal with the “hard” parts, but neglects the rest.
So now I practice, and encourage my students to practice, phrase by phrase, measure by measure, even beat by beat, through every bit of the music, regardless of difficulty. Some parts might require more work, but every part needs work.
When I explain this to students, I sometimes see in their faces the same hesitation that I initially had: this is going to take forever! It does require serious commitment, but isn’t it worth it to play the lesson or performance with confidence and control? Besides, it might not take as long as you think. Sometimes I walk through the math with a student to show them that it’s actually pretty doable. For example, suppose the student’s assignment includes a 50-measure etude. If the student spends two focused minutes on each and every measure, that only adds up to a bit more than an hour and a half of practicing, but begins an intimate acquaintance with the entire etude. That’s less than one day’s worth of practicing for most college-level music students, leaving quite a few additional hours in the week to shore up the hard parts plus practice other assigned materials.
I think that, at least for me, this progression through three different stages was necessary; in other words, I don’t think it’s necessarily wise or feasible to push all beginners straight into something as intensive and committed as third-stage practicing. Your results may vary.
I’m not sure I can recall the last time I walked into a music store and bought something.
I hear every so often that I should support local businesses and mom-and-pop shops, and I have to admit that this sounds vaguely like a responsible and virtuous thing to do. But here’s why I don’t—and can’t.
It costs too much. Prices are inevitably higher in local stores. I understand that so-called “full-service” establishments have overhead, but so do I. If they can justify charging higher prices, it seems fair that I can justify shopping around.
They don’t stock what I need. Other than a few scattered specialty shops, local music stores stock what they can sell in volume, and that’s inexpensive instruments and accessories for the beginning band market. I live in a small town, but even in the fairly large cities where I have lived, I have, more frequently than not, been unable to get what I like. A few months ago I made a two-and-a-half hour drive to go saxophone shopping with a student at a large music store in a large city. The store was large enough to have a saxophone specialist on staff. The store regularly stocks one brand of (arguably) professional-quality saxophone (and it’s not Selmer, Yamaha, Yanagisawa, or Keilwerth), and had exactly two major-brand instruments available, used. We also contacted a small saxophone specialty shop that was a little farther away, one that actually has “saxophone” in the store’s name. They had zero pro-line horns in stock.
As far as I can tell, the “superior customer service” factor is largely a myth. I think most woodwind players have experienced the frustration of going into a music store and being “helped” by the heavy-metal guitarist behind the counter. And even in specialty shops, I’ve rarely found a salesperson who can answer serious questions with much more than regurgitated advertising copy or a personal opinion. And, while I don’t doubt that specialty retailers are passionate about what they do, it’s important to keep in mind that they are businesspeople and subject to motivations other than getting you the best possible product for the smallest possible price. Read More “Confessions of a mail-order shopper”
An important part of interpreting music is figuring out how to use dynamic markings. They aren’t as simple as just playing louder or softer.
It helps a lot to understand the difference between what I call local dynamics and big-picture dynamics. Unfortunately, they are marked in sheet music using the same symbols, so it’s not always immediately obvious which they are. When you study a new repertoire piece, ask yourself why the composer or editor has provided each dynamic marking:
Is it there to call attention to a major event in the music, like a new theme, a return to an old theme, or some other kind of climactic moment? If so, it’s a big-picture dynamic. In many cases there is some other evidence that this is an important moment: a double-bar, a fermata, a key or tempo change, an entrance after some rests, etc. (If you have studied musical form, you probably have some more ideas of what to look for.)
Or, is the dynamic marking there just to provide some shape and direction to a phrase? There’s no major musical event, just a hint about the momentary musical gesture. If so, it’s a local dynamic.
When you think in terms of local vs. big-picture dynamics, it’s clear that not all fortes or mezzo-pianos or crescendos are equal. If the composer uses dynamics to contrast two themes or sections, for example with one being soft and the other being loud, that probably calls for a dramatic change. (It may also hint that some other unwritten contrasts are appropriate, like nuances of tempo, articulation, or tone color.) But a one-measure decrescendo from forte to piano in the middle of a theme might be more of a suggestion from the composer about what direction that phrase should take, and should be handled with more subtlety.
Beware of the limitations of dynamic markings in music notation, and of careless editing, and use your best-informed musical judgment to interpret the meanings of those symbols.
Exercise has always been a challenge motivation-wise for me, but now that being over 30 appears to be a chronic condition, it’s something that I’m trying to do better about. I find it easier to motivate myself to practice my instruments, but I see connections between my exercise aversion and some of my students’ practice lethargy:
Unclear or undetermined direction and goals
Poor planning of exercise/practice sessions
Sessions are boring
Unfamiliarity with proper training/practicing techniques, or a mistaken self-evaluation of how well they are being executed
I’ve previously attempted jogging routines, trips to the campus gym’s weight room, calisthenics programs, and various other workouts. All have fizzled out fairly quickly. Recently I had settled into a daily walk, which was easy and pleasant but wasn’t improving my fitness in any noticeable way.
I decided this year to take advantage of a summer fitness class being offered for free on campus. It was my first time committing to doing anything like that, but the price was right and the time commitment seemed do-able.
To my surprise, things went much better than in any of my previous attempts at regular exercise (after the first week’s exhaustion and soreness ebbed a little), and I found that a number of things that worked well for me in practice sessions were also clicking in my new fitness program:
Accountability is a big motivator. I knew the fitness instructor and my classmates would be expecting me every day, and that was enough to get me out of bed and into the gym for a full hour. Likewise, I need accountability in my practicing. For years I had teachers’ expectations to meet, but now I am accountable to myself. One thing that has worked well for me this summer is regularly-scheduled informal recording sessions, where I listen back to my playing, evaluate the results of my efforts, and write down some comments for myself.
Progress doesn’t always look like what you want it to. After my summer workouts, I still don’t have six-pack abs or a four-minute mile, but my pants are fitting a little loose, and my endurance is way, way up. Similarly, in the practice room, my summer’s efforts haven’t brought my recital repertoire to blazing tempi and groundbreaking interpretation, but I have shored up some fundamentals and made headway on some new techniques.
Variety is good. The fitness class was a “boot camp”-style regimen, with lots of short intervals of high-intensity (for me) exercise. It’s very similar to a strategy I use when practicing: pick a problem spot, and give it 10 minutes of hyper-focused effort. After 10 minutes, move on. It’s amazing how much gets done in a few hours’ worth of ten-minute chunks, and I enjoy it much more than long sessions working on the same problem.
Don’t fight your equipment. I bought new shoes partway through the summer, and the next day’s class was agony on my legs. I got some advice and bought some drugstore insoles that supported my feet differently, and the following class was 100% better. Same thing goes for my instruments and reeds: if something isn’t working efficiently, I’m unhappy and ineffective (and possibly even injured). Make sure your instruments are the best quality you can reasonably afford, and that they are kept in excellent repair and adjustment.
The fitness instructor was fond of saying, “If it doesn’t challenge you, it doesn’t change you.” (The phrase seems to get credited a lot to Fred DeVito.) It’s easy to fall into patterns of “practicing” what I can already do, rather than tackling something that will push me to a new level.
Progress feeds motivation. I found that sweating through a few weeks of exercise and seeing some improvement really boosted my enthusiasm for exercise. (To my own surprise, I’m even hoping to fit in another exercise class during the semester.) I recall as a freshman music major really struggling with getting my practicing done at first. But as it started to pay off, I got excited about what I was accomplishing, and it snowballed into more and better practicing.
Go put in some hours in the practice room—and in the gym, too!
For many household items, screws should be tightened if they seem loose. But for woodwind instruments it’s a little more complicated.
Woodwind instruments (flutes, oboes, clarinets, bassoons, and saxophones) have many screws on them. They are usually the slotted type, for which you would use a standard (“flat-head”) screwdriver. And some of them need to be tightened when they become loose, but some should be left alone—and it’s not always easy to tell which is which. If you aren’t sure, take it to your teacher or a professional instrument repair shop.
When tightening screws, always use a screwdriver that fits the screw very closely, to reduce the chances of damaging the screw. Mismatched screwdrivers can also slip, causing injury to you or scratches on the instrument’s finish.
Here are some kinds of screws you might find on your instrument:
Some screws simply hold some non-moving pieces together. For example, these screws on a saxophone hold this key guard onto the instrument. It’s not a moving part; the screws are just there so a professional can remove the key guard to do specialized work on the key. If these screws are loose, you can carefully tighten them just until they are snug.
The same is true of these screws that hold the oboe’s thumb rest in place—they are part of a non-moving assembly. If they won’t stay in place, the wood may be damaged (the hole is “stripped”). A good repair shop can fix it for you.
Woodwind instruments have many pivot screws, and also pivot rods that have slotted ends like screws. These allow some of the instrument’s keys to pivot (rotate) a little when you press and release them.
Here is one of the pivot screws on a flute. The threaded part screws into a post that is attached to the instrument, and the pointy tip of the screw fits into a void in the end of the key, holding it in place but allowing it to pivot smoothly. For a well-made and well-maintained instrument, usually you can screw these in all the way until they are snug and the head of the screw fits into the post without protruding. But if that makes the key stick or misbehave, it may be necessary to loosen it just slightly.
Here is a flute pivot rod. When it is screwed in it looks the same as a pivot screw, but when it is removed you can see that it’s long enough to pass all the way through a post and the keys’ hinge tube, and then screw into another post. Like a pivot screw, a pivot rod can usually be screwed in until snug, unless that seems to cause a problem.
Most of the woodwinds also have at least a few adjustment screws. These allow a professional to fine-tune how some of the keys move. They need to be tightened a certain amount, no tighter and no looser, like turning the knob on an oven to get the right temperature. If it’s too loose or too tight, it will make the instrument difficult or impossible to play. Making these adjustments properly requires specialized skills.
Here are some of the many adjustment screws on an oboe:
And here is one of the few on a clarinet:
If you tighten these adjustment screws and don’t know what you are doing, you will probably need to take the instrument to your teacher or a repair shop to undo the damage. This can be time-consuming and expensive.
If you have screws that keep loosening on their own, this may be because they are dirty, damaged, or need lubrication. A good repair shop can clean and repair the screws or rods without damaging them (or replace them if necessary), and can determine and apply the appropriate lubricant. (Most household oils aren’t right for the job.) If the screws continue to loosen after this treatment, take the instrument to the shop again and they may use additional methods to secure the screws in place.
Some of you know that I am a “Mormon“—a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I find that sometimes fellow musicians are curious about my faith and how it connects to my career in music, so I’d like to share a few thoughts.
Music in LDS (Latter-day Saint) theology
Mormons embrace the biblical Old and New Testaments and find in them reason to consider music, both vocal and instrumental, integral to worship:
And David and all the house of Israel played before the Lord on all manner of instruments made of fir wood, even on harps, and on psalteries, and on timbrels, and on cornets, and on cymbals. (2nd Samuel 6:5, KJV)
Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom; teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord. (Colossians 3:16, KJV)
Books of scripture unique to the LDS canon also promote music in worship. The Book of Mormon describes gatherings of the faithful in the ancient Americas:
And their meetings were conducted by the church after the manner of the workings of the Spirit, and by the power of the Holy Ghost; for as the power of the Holy Ghost led them whether to preach, or to exhort, or to pray, or to supplicate, or to sing, even so it was done. (Moroni 6:9, emphasis added)
The Doctrine and Covenants, a collection of revelations from the 19th and 20th centuries, includes divine sanction for music in worship:
And it shall be given thee, also, to make a selection of sacred hymns, as it shall be given thee, which is pleasing unto me, to be had in my church.
For my soul delighteth in the song of the heart; yea, the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads. (Doctrine and Covenants 25:12)
If thou art merry, praise the Lord with singing, with music, with dancing, and with a prayer of praise and thanksgiving. (Doctrine and Covenants 136:28)
Sorry, but to me this article is just as biassed against accurate, purposefully measured swing, as it claims the triplet notation to be AGAINST swing-FEEL.
I beg to differ on this, both, in terms of the ability of even triplets to ‘swing’, and in terms of the historical predominance of triplet swing conception. Swing ratios, microtiming descrepancies, and tempo dynamics aside, triplet conception AND feel are central to jazz theory and practice. Ever read a jazz drumming manual? Triplet and/or dotted quaver – semiquaver divisions are standardly notated for PRACTICE of RHYTHM in JAZZ by good swinging drummers worldwide. In any case, several studies on the execution and perception of groove in swing, funk, and rock styles have consistently shown that, while moderate microtiming deviations in performances are acceptable, even preferred over other options, performances with strictly quantized tuplets (TRIPLETS in the case of swing examples) rate highly for sense of ‘groove’ and entrainment, and are preferred to extreme deviations of beat placement and swing ratio – yes, even for jazz. You tell us jazz is a ‘duple’-only phenomenon, while declaring the duplets to be unmeasurable, only ‘feelable’. But the great Max Roach told us that jazz rhythm is “all twos and threes” [he also said, “it’s all two over three”]. One of the main distinctions between ragtime feel and early ‘swing’ was the transition from straight/duple subdivision to a triple conception OVER the duple meter (as demonstrated by stride and boogie-woogie pianists).
Fifty years of playing, teaching, and living jazz tells me you’re trying too hard to be ‘intellectual’ about this, rather than practical. I can play you a 2-1, 3-1, 3-2, 4-1 swing, or even a 5-3, or 7-3 – by FEEL – NOT ‘counting’. However, I can do that because I HAVE counted them, have LISTENED to them, and have VISUALISED them. If I compose swing that I HEAR a particular way, then THAT’S how it gets written, and that’s how I want it PLAYED! When I play, I’m not known for ‘mechanical’ feel. So how does your statement that, “writing or playing lots of triplets is a common mistake that non-jazz musicians make when they are trying to imitate a swing sound” play out in my world? It doesn’t. Nor in Max Roach’s, nor Cannonball Adderley’s, nor Elvin Jones’, nor Jim Chapin’s, nor Art Tatum’s, nor many, many, MANY others’. Jazz is a free world man, and Western ‘classical’ notation is good enough to get us conceptually oriented to swing … So, YES – we CAN write swing in triplets if we want to (ESPECIALLY if we’re experts).
Pat Metheny believes that the triplet feel is the foundation of swing. It is the the most important subdivision and he talks of feeling triplets even when not playing them. I think this article is poorly thought out.
Jazz drummer here. I stumbled on this article looking for info on the time old argument that Max Roach couldn’t swing (I don’t subscribe to that idea). Anyway, I can see what you are saying but I have to agree with Jazz Warrior on the whole. May I suggest listening to Kenny Clarke’s ride cymbal work on the composition ‘Willow Weep for Me’ from the Dexter Gordon LP ‘Our Man in Paris’. A mixture of dotted notes and triplets. I would say they both ‘swing’ in different ways. All that being said, Jazz has become a little too dogmatic, where everything is quantified & measured and overly cerebral.
Sorry, but to me this article is just as biassed against accurate, purposefully measured swing, as it claims the triplet notation to be AGAINST swing-FEEL.
I beg to differ on this, both, in terms of the ability of even triplets to ‘swing’, and in terms of the historical predominance of triplet swing conception. Swing ratios, microtiming descrepancies, and tempo dynamics aside, triplet conception AND feel are central to jazz theory and practice. Ever read a jazz drumming manual? Triplet and/or dotted quaver – semiquaver divisions are standardly notated for PRACTICE of RHYTHM in JAZZ by good swinging drummers worldwide. In any case, several studies on the execution and perception of groove in swing, funk, and rock styles have consistently shown that, while moderate microtiming deviations in performances are acceptable, even preferred over other options, performances with strictly quantized tuplets (TRIPLETS in the case of swing examples) rate highly for sense of ‘groove’ and entrainment, and are preferred to extreme deviations of beat placement and swing ratio – yes, even for jazz. You tell us jazz is a ‘duple’-only phenomenon, while declaring the duplets to be unmeasurable, only ‘feelable’. But the great Max Roach told us that jazz rhythm is “all twos and threes” [he also said, “it’s all two over three”]. One of the main distinctions between ragtime feel and early ‘swing’ was the transition from straight/duple subdivision to a triple conception OVER the duple meter (as demonstrated by stride and boogie-woogie pianists).
Fifty years of playing, teaching, and living jazz tells me you’re trying too hard to be ‘intellectual’ about this, rather than practical. I can play you a 2-1, 3-1, 3-2, 4-1 swing, or even a 5-3, or 7-3 – by FEEL – NOT ‘counting’. However, I can do that because I HAVE counted them, have LISTENED to them, and have VISUALISED them. If I compose swing that I HEAR a particular way, then THAT’S how it gets written, and that’s how I want it PLAYED! When I play, I’m not known for ‘mechanical’ feel. So how does your statement that, “writing or playing lots of triplets is a common mistake that non-jazz musicians make when they are trying to imitate a swing sound” play out in my world? It doesn’t. Nor in Max Roach’s, nor Cannonball Adderley’s, nor Elvin Jones’, nor Jim Chapin’s, nor Art Tatum’s, nor many, many, MANY others’. Jazz is a free world man, and Western ‘classical’ notation is good enough to get us conceptually oriented to swing … So, YES – we CAN write swing in triplets if we want to (ESPECIALLY if we’re experts).
Pat Metheny believes that the triplet feel is the foundation of swing. It is the the most important subdivision and he talks of feeling triplets even when not playing them. I think this article is poorly thought out.
Jazz drummer here. I stumbled on this article looking for info on the time old argument that Max Roach couldn’t swing (I don’t subscribe to that idea). Anyway, I can see what you are saying but I have to agree with Jazz Warrior on the whole. May I suggest listening to Kenny Clarke’s ride cymbal work on the composition ‘Willow Weep for Me’ from the Dexter Gordon LP ‘Our Man in Paris’. A mixture of dotted notes and triplets. I would say they both ‘swing’ in different ways. All that being said, Jazz has become a little too dogmatic, where everything is quantified & measured and overly cerebral.