Let It Happen?

I’ve got to say that my continuing journey to jazz improvisation has been an amazing experience! I have learned so much, simply by writing a book about it. I’m getting to the point now where I can look back and realize how naïve I was and have always been regarding jazz. In many ways, I’m happy to be making this journey as an adult; though kids pick things up quicker, I’m much more aware and appreciative of the educational/developmental process than I would have been had I “learned it” as a kid. As a teacher, this means the lessons are more immediate and easily accessible for passing on to others; I have not “forgotten” my education. I will never forget that I was once a beginner.

I have had to do a lot of soul-searching in this quest. One of the biggest obstacles I’ve had to overcome has been to get past the “let it happen” mentality. I’ve been advised many times over my lifetime of playing the banjo that that is the true secret to jazz improv: just let it happen. This meshed perfectly with my natural laziness: how cool is it that all you have to do is let it happen? No actual work is required! Hey, I can do that! The only problem was, decades passed and it still wasn’t happening. Then it finally dawned on me: I didn’t have the necessary IT to let happen! Rather than being an encouragement, the “let it happen” mantra justified my laziness and kept me from advancing. I don’t blame others for saying it to me: I blame myself for taking it so literally.

My biggest self-educational push has been in figuring out just what it is, and then in figuring out how much or little of it I had. It is not just one thing; there are several things that work together to make one into a jazz improviser. The more and stronger types of it one has, the more able one will be to let it happen. The major types of it that I have identified are: #1, the ear; #2, the physical/musical; and #3, the improvisational spirit.

To begin with, I have the habit of over-thinking everything (an obvious obstacle to jazz improv), but it is what it is. I decided to use my “advanced thinking skills” to my best advantage (can’t beat it? Join it!). Anyway, the ear is an obvious but multi-faceted aspect. Do I “have an ear?”

• Yes: I hear music in my head all the time, in proper and complete form if I pay enough attention to it. This used to drive me nuts, as I can’t find the off switch! I have learned to appreciate and use it to my advantage though.
• Yes: My major musical gift is known as “melodic memory.” I can hear a simple melody once or twice and have it memorized, chords and all. More complex melodies require a bit more listening, but it doesn’t take me long to learn and remember. The majority of the songs I know today were learned “by ear.” To a certain extent, this memory works with improvisational jazz. I may not hear something note for note, but I certainly get the flow of the lines and hear it in my head after listening.
• Yes: I have “perfect relative pitch,” meaning that I can hear and identify the different intervals and chord types regardless of key. I can’t necessarily name the pitches though. “Perfect pitch” is a double-edged sword: sure, it would be great to be able to perfectly identify pitches, but what a headache to be around those with intonation problems! Relative pitch means that, as long as the instrument/musician is “in tune” (at least with themselves), it sounds good and I can adjust to it. I can tune my instrument from scratch without a tuner if I relax and block out other sounds (highly recommended ear training), but I have found that I tend to gradually adjust higher in pitch (assuming the strings have slipped) if I don’t occasionally verify with a tuner.
• Yes: Most-importantly, I have found that my ear can be improved with ear training.

I thought for years that my ear should be enough—in fact, I banked on it. So why couldn’t my fingers just do the things that my ear heard so easily? Why couldn’t I let it happen? This has proven to be a deeper issue than I ever thought it would be. The more important question I needed to ask myself was (and didn’t know to ask): Just what does my ear hear and consider to be “jazz,” or at least, what type of jazz does my ear gravitate to?

I have always gravitated to “lots of notes” jazz—the faster and more ferocious, the better. I realize the significance of this now. The only problem is, that type of music takes a lot of work to get the fingers and musical skills up to the task. The it that I was hearing in my head was simply beyond the reach of my fingers or my practice ambition. Was I crazy for trying to do this on the plectrum banjo? Should I have concentrated on the saxophone instead? I think it’s a very rare individual who has those skills naturally.

So, my ear was hearing wonderful things, but the fingers lacked the natural ability to play what I was hearing. Where did I stand on it? Did I have good physical/musical skills?

• Yes: I have a degree in Music Education; I hadn’t yet applied my knowledge to the banjo however. The banjo is seen as an “oral tradition” instrument, meaning that it’s passed on from one person to the next without the aid of written music or Classical music theory. It does seem to be a bit resistant to theory! So, I had to find a good starting point: scales and arpeggios have proven to be the key to reconciling the banjo with Classical/Jazz theory.
• Yes: I’m blessed with good hands that pick things up pretty quickly; I’m a good parrot, if nothing else. That’s why I like Harry Reser and Perry Bechtel so much. I have never had any problem figuring out how to play their style. Laziness has kept me from delving very deep into either one however; it does take some actual work! One copied tune from Bechtel (Dixie Medley) and one copied tune from Reser (Cat and Dog) does not constitute an immersion!  
• No: Strong single-string technique (required for lots-of-notes single-note jazz) requires work, which again, requires non-laziness.
• No: While I do have that natural ear to fall back on, the complicated theory required to understand the advanced jazz language has been a lot of work for me. Writing a book on it has been my way of combatting my natural laziness and doing the necessary work. I have certainly learned how to research (something that may have served me well in music school, ya think?).

So, basically, the fingers can’t keep up with the ear! Buddy Wachter told me decades ago that “the better you get, the worse you feel.” The ear develops at a faster rate than the fingers; the better you get, the more you hear—and the fingers simply can’t keep up. My ear developed on-pace for many years, but I failed to even try with the fingers! Now I find I’m having to force them to do more. I’m proving to myself that I’ve always been physically capable of it—I just never had the gumption to do the necessary work. I’m making up for it now though! I’m happy to report that my fingers have responded well to practice (who knew?)!

This brings me to the 3^rd and hardest-to-define element: Improvisational spirit. Some folks are confident, and just seem to “have the spirit,” and if need be, are able to overcome a less-than-great ear and/or fingers and improvise anyway. They are the ones who are able to “let it happen,” without concern for what they hear, whether their fingers can do amazing things or not, or what others think of them. Jazz does not necessarily mean playing lots of notes! A good jazz musician can do amazing things with a few carefully-chosen notes.

Do I have an improvisational spirit? This is where I do not shine:

• No: As I said, I overthink everything! True improv means being able to turn the conscious mind off and let ‘er rip! To top it off, my ear gravitates to lots of notes, which is hard to do while thinking.
• No: I’m scared of making mistakes, especially in front of other people. I’m the type who—when typing—has to stop and fix mistakes before moving on. I have a strong desire to play “correct” notes, or at least “appropriate” notes. So, I rarely play up to my potential in public settings.
• No: I am not an adventurous sort. I am naturally cautious in most everything I do. I am easily intimidated by those better than me—rather than being inspired to new heights by their greatness.

So, to summarize this exhaustive self-inventory (thank you for continuing to read!): my ears are there, my fingers and knowledge are catching up, and I have to work on letting it happen! I truly believe that I have now developed a sufficient amount of IT to let happen; now, just do it!