Today the jazz musician and blogger Camden Hughes has a post ("Why Vibing is Bad for Jazz") arguing that "vibing"–the longstanding practice favored by jazz musicians of giving another musician the stinkeye or worse if he or she isn't making it in one way or another–is never good.

I disagree.

First: I do agree that generally, yes, it's not good to be a nasty person, and there is definitely a kind of defensive vibing that is unrelated to anyone's performance and springs from a musician's own insecurities. This kind of vibing is bad. Being respectful and having a sense of humility about your place in the musical continuum is always a good goal regardless of the situation.

But the fact is that some judiciously applied instructional vibing can fulfill the very important purpose of teaching people that this music is challenging and demanding and deserves a level of competence. To elaborate:

Often young players, hobbyists, or even professional musicians from other genres will come into a jazz sit-in or gig situation thinking they are fairly hot stuff due to previous adoring crowds in schools or karaoke bars or their success in non-jazz settings. It is in the best interest of both these musicians and the music in general to disabuse them of this notion (if in fact they are making rookie mistakes) as soon as possible. Why? So they can either a) realize they really need to improve, and do the work necessary to get there, or b) realize they don't have the interest or time to improve and would be better off spending their energy elsewhere.

Because you know what's more bad for jazz than vibing? Bad jazz. I've said this before, but the music is ill-served by putting out a poor example to represent the product–when people hear a bad rock band they think, "this band is lousy," whereas when they hear a bad jazz band they think, "I don't like jazz."

So by reinforcing the seriousness required of this music to these players, the overall quality of the product improves and fewer fans are turned off by lousy performances. It can be unpleasant, I get it! I was definitely one of those youngsters with a too-high opinion of myself and have been on the receiving end of vibing many times, much of it well-deserved. But it also served two purposes that made me a better musician: it inspired me to get my ass in gear and get to work; and it helped me get used to the idea that this is just a thing that happens in life and not to lose sleep over it. (This is especially true of the defensive vibing I mentioned earlier–you're going to run into that. Better to learn to get over it and on with your own work.) It's also been my experience that a musician coming from the humble/respectful place I mentioned before who screws up will get a kinder variety of vibe than one coming from a place of arrogance.

Now, to preemptively address some objections: "What about when they smashed Ornette Coleman's horn? Was that good for the music?" Of course not, violence is bad and no, they shouldn't have smashed his horn. But imagine how Ornette must've sounded to those early bands he sat in with–what he was doing was in another world stylistically, so of course it wouldn't have fit, so it makes sense in the context of the music of that time that he would be treated like someone who couldn't play. So how did he respond? He found a group of players who could appreciate his vision and started a revolution.

And obviously vibing is not appropriate in all circumstances. In an educational setting, for example, the teacher could accomplish the same goal by just telling the student what he/she needs to work on. But in an age when jazz clubs fill up half their calendar with middle and high school bands, it is worth emphasizing that we as representatives of the hundred-plus year tradition of this music have (in my opinion anyway) a duty to put forth serious, well-executed music (in whatever style we happen to be playing at the moment). Half-assing it should be inexusable for the pro as well as the student.

One more thought: to the idea of "we're all in this together," I would say, yes we are, but that doesn't mean we get to phone it in. It's nice to say "Anyone can play jazz" but it needs the caveat "if you work your ass off at it."

In other words: it's nothing personal, man! You just need to practice! And then come back and try it again.

Don't miss Vibing, Part II: Vibable Offenses!

I am under no illusions that the Down Beat Critics Poll is an absolutely objective affair where artistic merit is the only factor (how would you even do that?)—so I absolutely am not getting the idea that I am in the "top" (whatever that means) 20 non-famous ("jazz famous," that is) trumpeters out there (since I can think of several even within a few square miles of here who regularly kick my butt all over the bandstand), but still—this is nice!

What I take it to mean is that at least a few people (somewhere between 5 and 27) who know this music very well remembered who I am, and that they enjoyed my playing, when filling out their polls—which in this day of hundreds of jazz records released every month is not something I take for granted.

However, I have to say that I'm pretty sure two very big factors contributing to my cracking this list for the first time were:

• I released two albums in two years; and

• I hired a very good publicist to promote them.

I know there are many outstanding trumpeters out there who either didn't release as frequently, or weren't able to hire someone to bug reviewers to seek them out in the deluge, and they're at a disadvantage. The whole publicity discussion is one for another time, but I've made my peace with the fact that even though a good publicist can encourage a reviewer to dig through his or her overflowing inbox and give a particular album a spin, it doesn't guarantee the reviewer will like it. (As a few reviews I could've done without can demonstrate.)

That said, I'm absolutely glad the critics remembered me (even though my last record came out way back in February—practically the stone age!), and I'm especially glad to see so many deserving friends, teachers & colleagues—Evan Francis! Dayna Stephens! Maria Schneider! Reggie Workman! Satoko Fujii! Donny McCaslin! Ben Goldberg! Howard Wiley! Kirk Knuffke! Jacob Garchik! Mike McGinnis!—showing up elsewhere in the poll. I hope we all get more gigs!

(P.S. For an interesting and very detailed breakdown on how one voter approached the ballot, read this.)

Recently someone asked a question in Jack Walrath's excellent Facebook group along the lines of "What tune makes you sweat bullets every time someone calls it on a gig or at a session?" Many responders picked tunes like "Giant Steps," "Countdown," "Cherokee," etc., in other words thorny tunes with lots of intricate changes. I didn't have to think about my answer at all–firstly because tunes like those have gotten easier since I've put the work in (although the challenge then becomes how to play the tune instead of letting the tune play you–more about this here); but mainly because for at least ten years my unquestioned nemesis in improvised music has been The Slow Blues.

Yes, that's right, a regular old slow blues–the very first tune I ever improvised on, as a matter of fact. Why is it still hounding me? First, let's establish some context by going back in time for a little background vignette:

SCENE: Stereotypical "Jazz Education" rehearsal room, mid 1990s. Whiteboard with diminished scale pattern on it, acoustical foam on walls, etc. 3-4 young white American and European college JAZZ STUDENTS are "jamming" on a Bb blues because the teacher is late again. Their solos are a mix of unswinging bebop lines, self-conscious "out" pentatonic or chromatic patterns, and corny stereotypical blues licks. One AFRICAN-AMERICAN TENOR PLAYER sits in the corner, looking vaguely stoned (which he probably was), not playing. TEACHER, a grizzled older jazz musician, arrives, looking like he just woke up under a rock, listens for a minute or so, and stops the tune.

TEACHER: What are you guys playing?

STUDENT: Just a blues.

AFRICAN-AMERICAN TENOR PLAYER shakes his head.

TEACHER (to AfAm TENOR PLAYER): What?

AfAm TENOR PLAYER: They ain't playin' The Blues.

TEACHER (eyes closed meaningfully): This guy gets it.

Rest of STUDENTS go into a visible slump.

Yes, this was an actual scene from my past. (And no, I was not the hip African-American tenor player, if you hadn't already guessed.) This guy has been successfully living in my head since that day, lying low and waiting until I start soloing on a slow blues to jump back into my consciousness at the most inopportune time: "You ain't playin' The Blues."

I should mention that this guy was no great shakes as an improviser, either–he was all style and not much substance, at least as best I can remember 15 years later–but he turned into a symbol of my own inner critic. So let's unpack what exactly is going on that turned these 12 simple bars into a source of overthinking for me.

If you come up playing this music (whether you call it jazz, or BAM, or whatever), you're drilled from the get-go about the importance–more like holiness–of The Blues. According to whichever textbook you probably had, it's the magical ingredient that turned corny Euro-American band music into the "hot" jazz that took the country by storm. It's mysterious and ineffable but has to do with field hollers and Congo Square and speakeasies and African thumb pianos and The Delta and church and sin and a whole load of other things which are extremely foreign to the life experience of a late-20th-century white kid from the suburbs.

Now I should clarify that when I say "the Blues," I'm talking about both a form (usually 12 bars) and a language. (I was going to say "a feeling," but that could cause confusion with the emotional state "the Blues"–more on that later.)

It's possible to improvise accurately over a standard blues progression while using none of the blues language (it will probably not sound "bluesy"), just like it's possible to use the blues language on a form that is not technically a blues (it will still sound bluesy). ("Willow Weep for Me" is a good example of an often bluesy tune that is not a blues per se.)

(Note: I'm not making a value judgment when I say something is "bluesy" or not–just whether it sends the musical message "this is the blues." It can still be good, bad, or indifferent.)

So what makes the Blues sound "bluesy"? This brings us to what to me is the biggest challenge surrounding the Blues–the use of cliché. In order for the Blues to sound "authentic," it requires the use of elements of musical language that can only be called clichés (I'm talking mainly about blues scale licks and phrases). For musicians who play "blues"-proper (the tradition of Robert Johnson, Muddy Waters, John Lee Hooker and so on), this isn't really a problem, since the language of that genre is pretty much accepted to only be the blues scale.

But in jazz you're told from early on that cliché is bad, that you should be using your own language and expressing your individuality. (Also, blues clichés can get old fast. I remember the great pianist Barry Harris talking about how blues licks are like cursing–they're effective if you use them here and there to emphasize a point or get people's attention, but if you're just cursing endlessly, people stop listening to what you have to say.)

Further complicating matters is the fact that blues clichés are some of the easiest tricks to learn (can you learn 7 notes? good, now you can play blues clichés), and also the simplest way to get audiences to go "wooooo!" (which is one reason they're really popular with beginners). We've all heard players who will shamelessly pile cliché on cliché and let the "wooos" rain down, but that is a pretty shallow musical pool to be swimming in, and more sophisticated and/or less drunk audiences will see through that shit pretty fast. (Your fellow musicians will likely not be impressed by this, either. I believe the word that comes to mind with this kind of repetitive flag-waving is "jive.")

So how do you balance the need to use enough of the "blues language" to sound authentic with the desire to avoid sounding like a caricature? All while sounding like yourself? (And Hip? And Modern? And BURNING? BUT NOT TOO BURNING?!) These are the questions I really wanted to deal with after realizing I was still afraid of those 12 damn bars after 20+ years of learning this music.

In a future post, I'll talk about the steps I took to work on these issues (spoiler alert: it involves some intense listening of people doing it well). For now, I'll leave you with an example of some undisputedly authentic yet sophisticated blues improvising by someone who had no problem using the standard blues language in an intensely personal way:

Stuff like this can really help.

Once again, the Jazz/BAM internet is abuzz--abuzz, I tell you!--with opinions on how the music can grow its audience and remain a culturally relevant art form in the 21st Century. Well, I'm happy to say they're all wrong! Musicians and fans, just follow these few simple steps, and before you know it, Jazz will be partying like it's 1959!

• Provide iPods at every gig so audience members can listen to their own choice of music during the show

• Bring contemporary audiences in by covering tunes by hot new pop bands like like N'SYNC, The BeeGees, and Scott Joplin

• Have the band begin the set naked, and offer to put on one piece of clothing each time someone claps

• Three words: ZOMBIE LOUIS ARMSTRONG

• Play more standards

• Take advantage of social media platforms by limiting your solos to 140 notes or less

• Build a "Jazzyland" theme park in Orlando, featuring thrilling attractions like Sun Ra's ArKoaster, the GraviTrane, the Tilt-A-Wayne, Jazz Argument! (with Animatronic WyntonBot), Keith Jarrett's FLIP-OUT! and the Bitches Brew Album Cover House of Horrors, plus exclusive shopping at The Ahmad JaMall and a hot dog stand run by Anthony Braxton

• Reinvigorate jazz by incorporating elements of rock, hiphop, Salsa, polka, Bluegrass, Tango, Death Metal, Tibetan throat-singing, New Wave, Death Bluegrass, Drum and Bass, Drum and Bass and Mariachi, Thrash Electro-Industrial Housegrass, anything with tubas, the "Dukes of Hazzard" Theme, jazz, and Paul Anka

• Get every jazz group in the world to play nothing but "Misty" for the next year, over and over, just to cure people of wanting to hear that $@#*%! song (Next year: "When the Saints")

• Accrue thousands of dollars in debt getting a degree in jazz from an accredited educational institution--once people learn how qualified you are, they'll have no choice but to buy your CDs!

• Book non-jazz acts to headline every major jazz festival in the U.S. for several years, until audiences forget what jazz is--just kidding, that would never happen!

• Play fewer standards

• Make the music more palatable to a wide audience by avoiding unpopular elements like improvisation, swing, acoustic instruments, "blue notes," syncopation, harmony, melody, and rhythm

• Three words: PRESIDENT NICHOLAS PAYTON

• Save yourself the time and effort of practicing by just running "Kind of Blue" through the house speakers while your band pretends to play

• Start an island colony to raise a new jazz audience from childhood in isolation, exposing them solely to the highest quality of musical influences; watch them grow into passionate and knowledgeable listeners, only to see it all go to hell when a crate of Justin Bieber CDs washes up on shore

• Stop playing all that noodly stuff--people hate that.

This morning, NPR's A Blog Supreme featured a story about a wealthy music lover who has donated $2.5 million to Drake University's jazz program, to be used for a professorship and a new facility. Confronted by that number, I started to wonder if there might be ways to spend that money which would actually benefit the music and musicians more–like subsidizing 12,500 gigs at $200, for example.

It was with those numbers ringing in my head that I saw the even more staggering news that SFJAZZ has secured a $20 million donation for a permanent center in the City. (Think about it! $20 million! I wonder whether every single jazz album sale in the past 10 years even made that much money.)

First of all, genuine congratulations to SFJAZZ on the jazz center–that really is incredible, especially in this economy, in this country, in this culture. But again, as a thought experiment here–that money would pay for ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND $200 gigs. Just imagine for a second what kind of a rejuvenation any jazz scene could get from even a smidgen of that.

Why am I harping on the $200 gig?

Because having a gig–at a club, a bar, a cafe, restaurant or whatever–has been the backbone of jazz music for a century. Having a place to play–work through your stuff, learn the ropes and try out new things, interact with other musicians and the audience–is how musicians have honed their craft and the music has grown, evolved, and flourished since the days of Buddy Bolden.

Perhaps even more importantly, it's also the primary place where audiences have gotten to know jazz–been exposed to it, responded to it, thought about it, and for some percentage, become long-term listeners, without having to pony up a lot of dough or put on a suit. And in the Bay Area, the number of places to do that–especially if you're not a big name–gets smaller every year.

Although the number of healthy jazz venues has steadily decreased since the 70s, the past few years have seen an especially ugly series of closures, with Jazz at Pearl's, the Octavia Lounge, and Anna's Jazz Island disappearing in short order. While Yoshi's and SFJAZZ continue to be successful, it is largely through single shows or short runs of non-local acts. (At a cost of significantly more than a one-drink minimum, too.) Side note: I think that's great! I enjoy going to those shows, too. But it's very different than having a vital scene of regular working bands.

(And for some perspective on that $200–I'm talking about for the whole band. Doesn't seem like much, but I can count the number of jazz gigs I've had that paid that much on my two brass-stained hands. For example: when the Contemporary Jazz Orchestra, San Francisco's long-running Monday night big band, was laid off from its last regular gig, I'm pretty sure it was earning less than $200 per night. For a 19-piece band.)

Now, I'm under no illusions that the "good old days" of jazz could or should come back–tastes change, and just because people liked a certain kind of music in the past doesn't mean their kids or grandkids will like it, or the music that evolved from it, today (and to clarify, I'm not just talking about straightahead jazz–it's scary out there for pretty much anything not involving turntables).

But just imagine for a second what kind of an amazing scene could come about if next time, our hypothetical rich jazz patron decided to skip the giant hall, and invest in some GIGS.

BUT SERIOUSLY – OK, that was fun, but let's face it–this idea is, putting it charitably (get it?), impractical. Who decides which bands and venues would get supported? What about the places (and there are many) which wouldn't want jazz even if it was free? What about the huge backlash from audiences whose patience with jazz runs out after only, say, 50,000 gigs? These are real concerns. I'm just saying that maybe the next wave of jazz philanthropy might consider whether some intelligently-infused cash might look at ways to get the music back into the nightlife that was its 100-year workshop.

UPDATE: The president of Drake University (!) responds over at A Blog Supreme.

Part two here...