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.

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