Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Like Wolfgang

Last semester, we talked in depth about Miles Davis's Second Great Quintet. For many reasons, this group was a pivotal force in the progression of the jazz conception in the 1960's, but as always, only half of the picture. Known for their chromatic harmony, complex rhythmic elements, and virtuosic soloing, in many ways, this group represented the height of the academic in jazz (it'd be worth noting that this was approached organically and not from the university setting, a path which has resulted in completely different music). As was noted last time, this may be the primary reason they are so intensely studied by ambitious students of jazz music: they provide a single stop for the most technically difficult aspects of the music. But as always, this can lead to short-sightedness.

In the last post, I talked in some detail about the problem of mistaking the fine details for the greater picture. It's important to remember that before Miles Davis ripped up and down those chromatic scales on his trumpet, he recorded the most famous jazz album – Kind of Blue – on which his playing exemplifies the study of sparsity. In many ways, the progression of the artistry of Miles Davis parallels both the history of jazz music and European music as a whole. The movement between complexity and simplicity has been a constant in all art throughout history. In music, we've moved from Bach to Mozart, Beethoven to Chopin, Schoenberg (of “Erwartung”) to Schoenberg (of op. 23), and Miles Davis (with the Second Great Quintet) to Miles Davis (on In a Silent Way). So, with that in mind, we'll take a look at some of the gallant in jazz.
To remain in Europe for one more moment, consider this famous Mozart piano sonata:



The right hand plays what may be considered an elaborate children's exercise, while the left hand just chugs away at the chords in one of the simplest ways possible. Gone are the extravagant fugal techniques of the baroque period. For many – mostly students of music – the beauty of this music can be the hardest to appreciate. There are very few substantive reasons as to why it works, and the ones you can come up with sound so elementary that they must be false.

Return to jazz. The music of Sonny Rollins embodies everything that makes this piano sonata successful. First, reconsider the piano as a jazz ensemble: the right hand improvises on the provided harmony in a simple triadic or diatonic fashion, the left hand merely keeps time and provides the basic chords. Now, watch this video:



Sonny's approach is fraught with a kind of difficulty not found in the music of the Second Great Quintet. In this simplistic style, the weight put on the soloist is considerably more than the group approach of the quintet. While creating and playing in a complex rhythm section presents its own challenges, it provides a safety net for the individual soloist: he or she can always pull a rhythmic motive from the group, engage in some kind of call and response, or simply lay out for a few measures to give the band a chance to fill the space. None of these are serious options in Sonny' approach, and the soloist succeeds or fails almost entirely on the strength of their individual playing.

Here we return to an idea from the last post: what is simple and what is complex. What is perceived as complex in the Second Great Quintet actually provides a number of outs for the soloist, while the seemingly simplistic approach of Sonny Rollins leaves the soloist entirely on their own. Going further with this, it may be that a change in perception of complexity occurs when shifting from the viewpoint of the performer to the audience: this certainly accounts for the inexplicable difficulty in playing Mozart or playing a great solo on “Impressions”.

Rollins wasn't alone in this style: many of the famous white players in the 50's and 60's espoused this simplistic approach. Jim Hall, Paul Desmond, Chet Baker, and the entire “Cool” school of jazz built their careers on the reduction of the work of Charlie Parker. Each of these players had their own unique qualities in their approach that could be discussed in some detail, but would take more time than is reasonable to cover here. In the mean time, throw these names in YouTube or Pandora and explore a more rarefied version of jazz.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Simplicity

In light of tritone substitution, modal mixture, upper extensions, and chromatic alterations, it can be easy to lose track of the music-making process. For a number of reasons, the study of music leads to the study of exceptions and oddities; some of these are technical -- we all know how to voice a major triad, but how do voice a major 9#11 chord? – some are compositionally based – how do I achieve a new sound in an old context ? – and some are historical – studying your predecessors' answers to the previous question. Unsurprisingly, as students largely study exceptions, their own creative output is bound to reflect this, most likely as an inorganic collage of learned techniques. As a beginning, this is good, and facilitates the learning process quickly, as an end, this is undesirable, largely resulting in mediocre or worse music. The bridge between student and musician – whether it be as an improvisor or composer – is crossed through moderation. As we've spent considerable time talking about the precise technical qualities of music, we'll devote some future posts to more abstract concepts. Because of this, immediate gain from these next few posts may not be as great and the ideas involved may not provide any definite answers, but consideration of the concepts discussed will lead to greater musicianship on a holistic level.

The first step in this process is the ability to consider an object's multiple levels of complexity and simplicity and the spectrum that connects the two concepts. Can an object be considered both complex and simple simultaneously? If something is made up of an intricate array of straight-forward processes, on which side of the spectrum does it lie? Similarly, if something is created by a small number of highly detailed components, is it easier or harder to understand than the last object? One answer to these questions questions the point of view of the observer. Your own computer provides a good example. On the most fundamental level, digital logic can't be any simpler, allowing for only one of two possible options: 0 or 1. Zoom out a bit and you'll begin to see a highly elaborate system that relies on a number of physical components and the software the allows these components to function. Finally, from your chair, the computer is fairly easy to comprehend: it has a keyboard and mouse, which take the input, the tower which processes the input, and a monitor which displays the output. Returning to music, this idea can relate to the level on which you analyze any given piece. Are you looking at individual chords, harmonic progressions, melodic processes, or large-scale form? The level of complexity of any given piece will be different in all of these areas.

Let's consider some examples. J.S. Bach's C Minor Fugue, BWV 847, provides an intricate display of motivic development (ignore any connotations this term may have in the traditional sense), ultimately basing almost every melodic line off the original fugal subject. On the other hand, the large-scale form – like it is in most fugues – is fairly simple: the composer introduces the melody in all of the voices, 'improvises' some contrapuntal sections, and ends whenever he sees fit, needing no preparation for the finale. As a counter-example, John Coltrane's “Giant Steps”, as it was originally recorded on the album, provides a complicated harmonic setting on which a limited amount of melodic material is prevented (it's worth pointing out that in the European worldview, the form of “Giant Steps” is about as simple as is possible, but in the context of jazz, it's highly complex). There's no specific lesson to be taken from these examples, but consideration of them is important.

If you begin to transcribe your favorite artists or review the scores of your favorite pieces, it's almost a certainty that the most stunning things will be the simple ones: Bill Evans soloing with the notes of the minor triad that's called for on the lead sheet, Shostakovich using triadic harmony in the slow movement of his cello concerto, the relative brevity of Beethoven's development sections, and the pentatonic solos of John Coltrane. While each player's final reaction to these qualities will differ, the important thing is to consider the implications of what you see. In closing, consider this question.

Bill Evans – a piano player whom the vast majority of the piano-playing populace dreams of sounding like – opens his solo to 'Nardis' on Explorations with only the notes F# and A. Why does he do this?

Monday, February 8, 2010

Diabolus in Musica

For centuries now, the resolution of the tritone has been one of the driving forces of change in tonal music. The extension of the V chord to the V7 chord produced stronger cadences when it began to appear around 1600 and has become status quo for any important harmonic passages; this remains true in jazz music, and the standard ii->V->I chord progressions illustrate this. The clever composer can manipulate this technique to create unusual chord progressions that maintain a sense of direction and rationality. This article will discuss a handful of these ideas, hopefully providing solutions to problems that have come up in your own writing.

This first fact to note in the exploration of this ideas is the paradoxical identity of the tritone. In many ways, the interval between F and B defines the C major scale, as traditionally, it must resolve to E and C, most likely in the form of the I chord, C major. Again, this explains the prominence of G7 chords in the key of C major: any space is determined by its beginning and terminating point, in tonal music, this is the tonic and the dominant. But F and B could also resolve in the opposite direction, leading to Gb and Bb. This would lead to the key of Gb – adding the Db to the interval more clearly demonstrates this – which just happens to be the key most distant from C major. As a result, the defining interval of any major key also outlines its most contrasting key. In jazz, this process is referred to as tritone substitution, and is common in the modern jazz repertoire. In practical terms, any time a dominant chord resolves down a half-step, tritone substitution has been employed.

What can be taken from this is that, any time the interval of a tritone occurs, as long as the dissonance resolves properly, the following chord will provide a sense of finality to the dissonant chord. In the last few posts, I've listed a number of extended chords that contain the interval of the tritone, each of which can provide an opportunity for alternate resolutions of the tritone. Here are a few quick examples.

Fmaj7#11 – The lydian chord contains a tritone between its root and the upper extension (it's probably based as an augmented 11th and not 4th, but octave equivalency more or less takes care of the difference). In this case, the dissonant interval occurs between F and B, the same tritone that exists in G7. So, just as G7 can move resolve to two different tonic chords, Fmaj7#11 can resolve to C or Gb.

D-6/9 – The dorian chord contains a tritone between its third and its sixth, in this case, F and B again. Accordingly, this chord can also resolve to C or Gb. As a point of interest, if the chord resolves to Gb-6/9 (it's possible to resolve to minor chords on any of these roots), this resolution can be taken in a cycle of major thirds through the octave, resulting in D-6/9->Gb-6/9->Bb-6/9.

A7b5 – We haven't discussed this chord yet, but it provides ample opportunity to demonstrate non-standard tritone resolutions. The chord is an altered dominant chord arising from lowering the fifth a half-step. In this case, the chord would be spelled A C# Eb G. A closer look at this chord reveals it to be two tritones separated by a minor third, here seen as A/Eb and C#/G. Because of this, this chord offers four possible points of resolution: D, Ab, E, and Bb. Though he would have referred to it differently, the turn-of-the-century Russian composer Alexander Scriabin made ample use of this chord in his later music, using it to push tonality to its ends.

As stated before, this style of deceptive cadence is common throughout jazz music. What's not common is for the substitution to be made in the other direction: that is, on the ii->V section of the ii->V->I progression. In this, the same basic concept is applied, but the substitution is made on the dominant rather than the targeted tonic chord. In the simplest example, the progression D-7 → G7 can be transformed into D-7 → Db7. A more adventurous example could be D-7 → F-7b5: the F-7b5 chord contains the same F and B found in the G7 chord. This concept allows for modulations that essentially reach their goal before they've even started.

In the end, the whole process revolves around the variability of the pitches that surround the tritone itself; as long as the tritone remains untouched, any chord constructed around it will provide a suitable substitute. Some aspects of traditional cadences are lost in the transformation though. Part of the effectiveness of the V7->I cadence is provided by the root movement involved between the chords. Extended use of tritone substitution generally results in awkward bass lines filled with half-steps and large jumps. Additionally, the constant contrast of tritone-related keys can get just as old as anything else. Nonetheless, tritone substitution ample options when looking to break out of traditional chord progressions.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Minor Chords

Without retracing too much ground, we'll continue on into the domain of minor chords. Perhaps the most noticeable in transformations of the perception of minor chords came about through the popularity of modal jazz in the 60's. Both So What and Impressions used long stretches of the dorian mode in their song forms, effectively destroying the notion of the minor 7 chord as the subdominant – as in a ii->V->I progression -- or as a tonic minor – which tends to be built in the aeolian mode and is reinforced by V->i cadences. The end result is a sort of harmonic wallpaper that lacks an origin or destination. This effect extends far earlier than this modal music though: from its beginnings, blues has always been based on progressions of unresolved dominant chords.

The following list provides a number of extended minor chords. As before, these can be used as substitutes for any other minor chords in both composition and accompaniment.

Minor Triad – C Eb G

What was said for the major triad remains true for the minor triad. In short, the purity of a triad can create a strong effect when surrounded by extended and chromatic chords. The first movement of Messiaen's Vision de l'Amen for two pianos contrasts tritone-based chords – actually, similar to the voicing Herbie Hancock would use in the 60's – and minor triads to create one of his trademark mystical settings.

Minor 9th – C Eb G Bb D

Since the recordings of Bill Evans and his rise in popularity, the minor 9th chord may have effectively replaced the minor 7th chord for many harmony players; for guitars players especially, the ease of fingering 9th chords makes them by far the most common minor chord substitute. It's a lush, introverted sound that adds color without using any chromatic inflections.

Minor 11th – C Eb (G) Bb D F

The basic extended chord family stretches on the 11th for minor chords. While Major 11th chords are theoretically possible to create, the interval of the fourth (that is, between the root and the 11th) proves to be too dissonant to use practically. As it pertains to the voicing of minor 11th chords, it is common to drop the fifth of the chord: G in the case of C-11. Perhaps due to the number of tones from the major scale represented, the effect generated by the minor 11th chord is one of ambiguity; in fact, a simple respelling can show the chord to be a sus chord suspended over its fifth (Fsus4/C in this case). Though there's certainly nothing wrong with this effect, in order to maintain a sense of harmonic contrast and movement, the chord should be used judiciously.

Minor 6th – C Eb G A

The first modal chord on this list, this chord belongs to the dorian mode. Its dissonant effect is created by the interval of a tritone between the third and the sixth of the chord. It appeared frequently in dance band music of the 60's and before, though in jazz, the ninth of the chord is generally added as well. As a point of interest, the chord is an inversion of the half-diminished chord (in this case, A-7b5/C) and the creative composer can make use of this relationship.

Minor 6/9 – C Eb (G) A D

The minor equivalent of the 6/9 chord, this minor chord is built by fourths rather than thirds, with a tritone between the third and the sixth. It came to prevalence in jazz through the piano playing of Herbie Hancock and the writing of Wayne Shorter during the time period of the Miles Davis Second Great Quintet. Like the minor 6 chord, this chord belongs to the dorian mode, though it has a darker sound quality to it than the standard 6 chord.

Minor 9b6 – C Eb Ab D

Here's a chord that occurs extremely rarely in the jazz literature (to my knowledge, only Wayne Shorter's Iris and Teru call for similar chords. It does appear as a suspension in Israel). Its interval of a minor sixth allow it to be considered as a chord that invokes the natural minor mode, something rarely done in a modal sense in jazz music. Like some of the other chords in this list though, placement and use of this chord must be carefully considered due to its similarities to other chordal structures. Leaving out the ninth would create a major triad (Ab in this case), and even in its full voicing, the chord resembles a major lydian chord.

Minor-Major 7 – C Eb G B

The 7th chord of the melodic minor scale, this chord occurs frequently in latin music. It functions as a tonic minor, though ending a piece on the chord may be questionable (or not, it's really up to your taste and the setting).

As before, playing these chords on the piano is far more important that any text concerning them. The variety of sounds and voicings can't honestly be described in any short amount of time.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Major Chords

For one reason or another, we've all come to consider the major chord to be the most basic of harmonic structures. It's possible this comes from early exposure to major tonalities in the form of children's music or pop songs, though exact reasons are of course impossible to pin down. As one moves into jazz, it's inevitable that the Major 7 chord assumes the same role, providing the base point to which all other chords can be compared. This is a curious occurrence, as the chord is actually fairly dissonant, and when encountered in other musics, stands out starkly; in fact, it wasn't really until the writing of Duke Ellington that the chord became common place, players frequently using an added-sixth chord in to create a major tonality before that.

Nonetheless, in our current environment, it can be desirable to find some substitute for the chord to add variety to compositions (or standards). The following is a list of some typical chords that can play the role of a major chord. As we've discussed before, chords of the same quality (major, minor, dominant) can essentially be considered interchangeable, though some of the following chords will be too dissonant for some settings. For simplicity, we'll spell everything on the root of C. While voicings are always important in the creation of musical effects, there are too many to consider at the moment, so chords will be spelled ascending from the root to the highest extension. Finally, the descriptions provided obviously cannot do justice to the sound of the chord. It's important for anyone interested in employing these chords to sit down at the piano and play them and experiment with possible voicings.

Major Triad – C E G

This may seem counter-intuitive, but a calculated use of a major triad can create drastic effects. While most of these will be accomplished through some sort of altered progression and not chord substitution, the purity of a tonic triad can be powerful and is often missing in jazz music. Of course, overuse both counteracts this and can make the music too simplistic for most player's tastes, but the option should be at least considered.

Major 9th – C E G B D

A simple extension of the Major 7th chord, this chord can be used to create lush textures without using any chromatic alterations. As with all extended chords, Major 9th chords provide the greatest effect when the upper extension is voiced in the melody.

Added 6th – C E G A

As mentioned before, until the time of Ellington, this chord was considered the basic major chord in jazz. As its structure is not third-based, it can be considered part of a family of chords that comes from the pentatonic scale rather than the diatonic scale and often invokes a mood more associated with folk music than art music.

6/9 – C E A D

This unique chord finds some of its earliest representations in the piano voicings of McCoy Tyner. Whereas the added 6th chord evokes folk music, the 6/9 chord, with its fourth-based structure, is decidedly artificial in its sound. Similar to the 6 chord though, the 6/9 chord also resides in the pentatonic scale and carries some of the qualities of that scale.

Major 7#11, or, Lydian – C E G B F#

The simplest of the chromatic major chords, the lydian chord has become commonplace in jazz today, and to some extent, may be losing its dissonant on veteran listener's due to its overexposure. The chord saw first saw frequent use in the music of Wayne Shorter and has increased in popularity ever since. The F# in the chord requires the use of the lydian scale in playing over it, and as such, when used as a tonic chord, changes the key of the piece. As it has become standard practice to improvise in the lydian scale over major chords though, this scale change is less of a hurdle than it may have been in the past.

Major 7#5, or, Lydian Augmented – C E G# B

This chromatic major chord lies outside of the standard major scale, instead finding its home in the third mode of the melodic minor scale, the lydian #5 mode. In the standard jazz literature, this chord is exceptionally rare, though it does occur in a few pieces by Keith Jarrett and Wayne Shorter. As it takes a skilled improviser to play over the chord fluently, frequent use of this chord can make songs difficult to play. As a side note, when encountered in classical music, this chord is considered to be a major chord with an added flat sixth, spelled from the third of the chord (in this case E G# B C). Debussy and Ravel use it to great effect in their pieces La Mer and Concerto for the Left Hand.

6/9#5 – C E A D G#

This strange chord is actually a personal creation. It fits in the Lydian # 5 scale, though it sounds markedly different from the Major 7#5 chord. I've provided it here as an example of a chromatic chord constructed through added tones. In practice, any chromatic tone can be added to any chord as a chromatic extension, though care should be taken to make things playable for improvisers.

6b5b9 – C E A Gb Db

And to completely ignore that last bit of advice here's a chromatic chord that offers no specific scale for an improviser to play. This chord can be described in numerous ways. If found in the music of Messiaen or Stravinsky, it could best be described as a reduced polychord, in this case Gb/C (the Bb is missing from the Gb chord). It's also possible to conceive of the chord as an added sixth chord over a chromatic bass note, here viewed as A6/C.

Hopefully exploring this list provides inspiration for compositional possibilities. Considering both the nature of harmony in jazz – as discussed in the last post – and currently accepted compositional practices, a thorough understanding of the sounds of these chords can be more useful than any traditional harmonic training.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Concepts of Harmony in Jazz

In discussing the application of harmony in jazz composition, it's important to consider the major ways in which the music differs from its European counterpart. With only minimal analysis, one can discover that the chordal palette of jazz music tends to be far broader than classical music. Even composers known for their use of extended chords – most notably, Claude Debussy – use them sparingly: the notion that his impressionistic style is the product of frequent use of extended chords is decidedly false. Yet at times, the works of even relatively early composers such as Haydn and Mozart seem to offer a wider spectrum of harmonic colors than the typical jazz standard. In order to understand this – and further one's own compositional abilities – we'll take a short look at some specific differences in these musics.

In the classical conception, chords generally occur as a combination of independent melodic lines, undoubtedly a byproduct of the music's choral roots. While pieces by composers such as Mozart and Schubert tend to employ block chords frequently, more often than not, this music has a substantial level of polyphonic activity. The advantage of this style comes in the drastic effects voice-leading can have on a harmonic progression. If you've ever taken a theory class, you'll be at least somewhat familiar with the concept of voice-leading: in short, a way of writing multiple melodic lines that flow between many chords smoothly. Creative approaches to this technique can turn a rather simple harmonic progression into a monumental event. This introductory passage of Shostakovich's Prelude in F Major from Op. 87 demonstrates how one can turn a rather tame – and by that point, old fashioned – modal mixture into a unique musical event.



What can be learned from this is that the effect generated by a chord does not arise simply from the chords quality, but the manner in which that chord was approached. While one can reply to all of this by stating the use of polyphony in Dixieland jazz, they'd be (probably knowingly) pointing out the exception to the rule. In general, improvised music doesn't lend itself towards complex voice-leading: by the time one begins to write enough of the material on paper, the spontaneous feel of the music starts to disappear.

Another difference – one that is an outgrowth of the last – is the classical composer's tendency to invert chords to create more fluid passages of music. In fact, the conception that the inversions of a single chord belong to a single family is fairly modern: composers as late as J.S. Bach considered the three inversions of a triad to be unique chords with separate functions. And indeed, every inversion of any chord provides a unique sound which the experienced composer can use to their advantage. If you'd like an easy example, go sit down at the keyboard and play G7 followed by G7/F: while both chords technically resolve to C Major, they sound surprisingly different. Yet in jazz, chord inversions rarely occur. Almost every standard has every chord written in root position; if an inversion does appear, 95% of the time it will be the result of a dominant pedal, which in many ways, is an entirely different compositional technique. The role of the bass player in the jazz rhythm section easily explains this difference. Written bass lines tend to be uncommon in the jazz repertoire, as, like any writing, they can easily impede the improvisatory feel of the music. That's not to say inversions don't occur – many bass players probably play inversions without the rest of the band really realizing it – but if a composer gives a bassist a long series of inverted chords, the variety of possible bass lines quickly dwindles.

The innovations in jazz writing that took place in the 60's show a conscious effort to circumvent these limitations. Chords expanded far beyond their typical four-note voicings, the general pace of the harmonic rhythm found in a piece slowed down, and non-functional chord progressions – that is, sequences that operated outside of the typical diatonic model – became standard. The final product was the shifting modal music of Wayne Shorter (which I've already touched upon a few months ago in this blog). And by and large, this model remains the standard for jazz composition. In this conception, a wide chordal vocabulary is necessary to approach writing. Starting with the next entry, we'll investigate some of the chords that came into use, as well as some lesser-used chords.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Dear John



“He had considered creation in its whole extent, and his descriptions are therefore learned. He had accustomed his imagination to unrestrained indulgence, and his conceptions therefore were extensive. The characteristick quality of his poem is sublimity. He sometimes descends to the elegant, but his element is the great. He can occasionally invest himself with grace; but his natural port is gigantick loftiness. He can please when pleasure is required; but it is his peculiar power to astonish.”

Samuel Johnson on English poet John Milton

What's to be said about John Coltrane? Lewis Porter already put the majority of it in words in his great biography of the legendary tenor player, so for any serious study, one would do best to seek that source out. As it is, this will only provide a few short thoughts about the man and his music.

Coltrane represents the hope of students, not because “Giant Steps” has become the benchmark for the training jazz musician, but because Coltrane moved beyond this piece almost as soon as he put it on record. All contemporary accounts of Coltrane as a young man speak more to his dedication than to his technique: he was in no sense a prodigy. Miles Davis was disappointed to be stuck with Coltrane at the assembly of his First Great Quintet, much preferring the playing of Sonny Rollins. Coltrane's breakthrough into his late period came from intense study and consideration of the music of Miles Davis and Ornette Coleman. While undoubtedly a musical genius, Coltrane's success came more from hard work than natural talent.




Coltrane shows the path from technique to expression. His mastery of Charlie Parker's bebop style allowed to speak simply when he reached his mature style: he borrowed from his own future with the thousands of notes he played with Miles Davis in 1960, leaving only what was necessary for what followed. He showed that one practices scales in order to not play them. The resultant level of personal expression in his music was matched only by Miles Davis in his greatest moments. The music on First Meditations, and Stellar Regions is almost overpoweringly emotional and can be exhausting to listen to. Ultimately, his late music initiated an ultra-romantic period in jazz. He's not too distant from Johannes Brahms in this, who studied the masterworks of Bach, Beethoven, and Schubert in order to transcend the mechanics of music in his highly expressive works. At their best, both discard passage work for vocal melodies, finding their greatest successes in a single note.





Also like Brahms, Coltrane appeared to be completely devoid of humor. If his music misses the beauty of the everyday, it only does so as it strives to speak on the most noble of subjects: a simple look at the titles of the pieces on Meditations confirms this. While Kind of Blue works equally well as foreground or background music, A Love Supreme demands focus and attention. In the end, Coltrane's music garners not fans but disciples. Furthermore, he demands not a passive worship, but an active role in the creative process. A love of Coltrane's music pushes the listener towards the creative. It's here that one runs into the biggest difficulty though, one which few have been able to surpass until this point: following in his footsteps while remaining faithful to its creative spirit.