Somewhere in the middle of a notey solo on "Moment's Notice" last night I started thinking about the role of virtuosity in jazz. (For those unfamiliar with the tune: that is not a good time to start thinking about abstract concepts, because it can lead to "Did I really mean that phrase there? How about that one? Crap, where am I?"--but we can't always control what pops into our heads.)

Tunes like that often get me thinking along those lines, though, since their chock-full-of-chord-changes-ness tends to give one the sensation that he or she is being played by the tune rather than the other way around. (The solution, it turns out, is to learn the crap out of the tune until it feels as unconscious as a medium-tempo blues. Check back with me in another 20 years and I'll let you know how that's going.)

Coincidentally, the jazzoblogowebosphere offered two interesting posts on the same subject this morning--one from Peter Hum and a somewhat related take at Nextbop, both worth reading--exploring the role of technical wizardry in the genre. I don't claim to have any universal insight on the topic, but I have had an evolving thought process about it, which is tied in with my development as a player (as I suspect is the case for most players).

The short version: when I started getting serious about playing in my teens, I was focused on the high/loud/fast side of things, mainly because it came easily to me (or so I thought) in the early days. But by my college years I had started to reach the limits of that ease, and entered a long period of struggles with my instrument. I think this is true for many instrumentalists, and trumpeters especially. My chops became a harsh and fickle mistress which I could never count on from day to day. I fantasized about the sound my horn would make as it was slowly flattened beneath a steamroller into a large brass pancake more than I care to admit. I felt in those days that if I wasn't able to play to a certain level, it wasn't worth trying to make music at all.

Here's a clip of one guy who made me rethink this equation:

I know that Chet, and late Chet in particular, can be love-it-or-hate-it proposition, but I think you have to concede he's doing a hell of a lot musically with not a lot technically--and at a time when the technical side of the equation was giving me nothing but frustration, the idea that you could find something to say no matter how your chops were treating you that day was a revelation. I credit this approach with getting me through my years of wandering in the bad chops wilderness--if I felt like I needed to sound like Freddie Hubbard every night I never would've made it (in fact, that ended up causing problems for Freddie Hubbard himself in the long run).

Fast-forward ten years or so, and through a combination of good teachers, hard work, ad hoc self-psychology, second/third/fourth-guessing, and dumb luck, I've gotten to a point where I can count on my chops to be at least serviceable most of the time, which means that I find myself prone to forgetting the Gospel of Chet and giving in to the voices that say, "You waited so long to play high/fast/loud! Let it rip!" It's a good problem to have, and sometimes that's exactly what the musical situation calls for. (For example, I enjoyed playing a  Friday night gig recently at a noisy bar--when my wife asked how it went, I said, "They were loud, but I was louder.")

And chopsy playing can be great as a texture in itself (as Hum mentions in the article above)--I remember an older musician talking to me about the different strategies of building a solo--sometimes you start simple and build to complexity; sometimes you start sparse, build to notey and come back again; and sometimes "you come in doin' it and you keep on doin' it." That can be a hell of a lot of fun.

(Side note: in several reviews of my CD, the reviewers included points like, "He may not be a technical wizard, but..." and then went on to compliment my musicality or melodicism. It's a testament to how the jazz-as-technique meme is still ingrained in my head that my immediate response was, "What's wrong with my technique?!")

My long-term goal, though, is to get to the point where technique IS just a means to the end of being able to relax and let the music flow however it wants to.

Maybe not on "Moment's Notice," though.

Some of you may know that in addition to trumpet playing, designing things, and pestering people to attend my gigs, I am also an extremely amateur internet humorist (FYI: comedians make you laugh, while humorists make you smile condescendingly).So I've got a thing up today at McSweeney's, which is known to be the cream of the crop for that sort of thing, called Dan Savage's Wild Kingdom. (You don't have to be a fan of the world's best sex advice columnist or strange animal mating practices to get it, but it helps.)And in case you're looking for more things to make you smile condescendingly, here are some other doodads of mine they've previously kindly published:

• Horror Movies for Kids
• Favorite Gerund Movie Titles, Un-gerunded
• Alternatives to "Opening a Can of Whupass" for the Less Confrontationally Inclined
• Failed One-Liners from My Audition for Host of  "Australia's Funniest Home Videos" (with Gladstone)

UPDATE: Looks like somebody already wrote a whole book of sex advice for animals years before my McSweeney's thing. There are officially no new ideas left in the world.

Still working on part 3 of the big jazz philanthropy/gig discussion, but in the meantime, here's a cheery infographic about the kinds of numbers a 21st-century musician would have to move to earn minimum wage selling albums (either physically or digitally). Needless to say, it makes me think the whole shebang is better viewed as a way to "get your stuff out there," than as a moneymaking endeavor, unless you manage to get a cut on a car commercial or something. (Fortunately, Taco Bell is hiring--be sure to tell them about your jazz theory expertise!)Speaking of digital distribution: the title track from Contextualizin' is being featured on this week's edition of the eJazzNews Sampler, along with some vintage Jaco and other great artists. Download it for FREE here.Also: in memory of the amazing Hank Jones (who passed away today after an incredibly long and productive career), WKCR, the world's greatest jazz station, is playing a marathon of his music right now. Check it out immediately!

Last week, in response to several pieces of news about large-scale, institution-centered jazz philanthropy, I wrote a post thinking about the possibility that jazz might be better served in the long run by steering money toward smaller venues and less established "stars" (Jazz stars! LOL.) Since then, people far and wide have weighed in on the issue, which is good, and exactly what I was hoping would happen.

One response was from Patrick Jarenwattananon of NPR's A Blog Supreme, who mentioned one big reason why Big Jazz is ahead in the funding game right now:

Big, central institutions, by their nature, have massive potential for outreach. They can spend money on making money, whether by hiring publicity people, financial officers or big-name performers. ... In contrast, Mom and Pop's Bar sometimes doesn't even have the wherewithal to put up a serviceable Web site with updated show listings. If you were a potential investor, sponsor or major giver, wouldn't you want to donate to a place with accountability, a proven track record and highly visible accomplishments?

No argument here (just yesterday I came across a website for a venue which didn't include the address). The small-club, unfamiliar-name approach has a lot less high-visibility appeal than Sonny Rollins at the Citibank Jazz Palace or whatever. (More about this in a moment.)

Over on Facebook, several musicians weighed in--one idea which got me thinking came from vocaphonist Lorin Benedict:

Actually, I think this idea of distributing $ to a large number of smaller gigs COULD work. And the model already exists: The Stone, [John] Zorn's NYC venue which is curated by a different musician every month. Zorn and his cohorts choose the curators, of course, so you could argue that they are stacking the deck to favor the music of their friends... fine. But with a big donor, you could make, say, 10 different Stones in NYC alone. One run by Wynton, one run by Connie Crothers, one run by Randy Brecker, one run by Afrika Bambataa... the point would be to get a host of EXTREMELY DIFFERENT and nearly unrelated people to decide who curates their own little venue each month. ... See, the thing that's great about The Stone is that Zorn has it set up (through donations and the like) so that the musicians always walk away with ALL the $ from each gig. Which could be a nice bunch of change if they pack the place, or could be NADA, like when Bleeding Vector [Lorin's band] played there :) Either way, Zorn and co. are cool with it, because they weren't expecting to make any money anyway. Now, this is a little different than your model of guaranteed $200 gigs, but it does address the problem of venues: The Stone is a hole-in-the-wall ... but that's good enough, really. The bands could then choose to charge what they want each night, and if they pack the place, fine, if not, fine. ... In all of the above, I am assuming that the real problem is venues rather than simply $ for gigs. One could argue that giving $ directly to musicians is better, but I like the above because it has a "natural selection" quality-control built in to it. And the heads of the places, if chosen well, could pick curators who would effectively cover the entire scene ... keeping in mind that each one would designate a different curator each month. Each place would be some little dive that would be completely paid for, so you'd never have to worry about packing the place. But if the musicians did enough legwork, they could make real money by charging a goodly amount and packing it.

Lorin and I talked about this some more last night at Kaleidoscope, a casual performance space which, interestingly enough, would be perfectly suited to the sort of thing described above. I think he's really on to something, although it's a different approach than the paid gig idea, which bassist Noah Schenker brought up in his comment:

Lorin, you're talking about some kinds of funded concert spaces, which would be cool. Also seriously lacking is the restaurant, bar, lounge type venues where musicians can really practice, work on standards, maybe have a meal and bring home a meaningful paycheck--and how about a decent piano while we're at it. These places now expect musicians to play for tips. Not really sure what can be done, but the "free" market ain't doin' it.

More from bassist Kurt Kotheimer:

I think both those ideas are great (smaller venues/musicians as curators) and the Stone is a perfect example of this kind of thing in action. There is one other aspect to this that I was thinking about. Think of the small venues that already exist... Q: What is the problem with these venues? A: They are empty. ... Imagine what a small fraction the promotional money and 'Seal of Approval' of a large organization like SFJAZZ would do to bring people out to 21 Grand, Blue6, the Rev, etc. Even without supporting new venues and directly paying musicians they could at the very least support what is already happening in community. ... From the little bit I have played there, this seems to be how it works in Europe. I have played at total dives for like 5 people there but the flyer for the gig has all these sponsors on it. Some of them local businesses, some of them large corporate sponsors. And because of this you can play a small gig and still have travel expenses covered and make a modest amount of money. Crazy, huh?

So, a few thoughts on this--I think the Stone model is a good one, as a way of avoiding stylistic cliques (although who chooses the choosers?), but I do think the idea of giving the bands a minimum (say, the aforementioned $200) could encourage the participation of people (like Noah, above) who might otherwise have to take a less artistically rewarding gig because it pays. Since we're still talking hypothetically, let's keep the minimum for now.  (And you could get an entire year of $200 gigs every night for $73,000, which is less than one two-hundredth the amount SFJAZZ just raised.)

Next post, I'll get into the nuts & bolts of how I might do it if I ran the universe. Stay tuned, and please feel free to join in the conversation in the comments (even if you want to tell me I don't know what I'm talking about).Is it just me, or is this seeming less and less crazy?

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...

Back when I was living in New York and taking the subway every day, I started making "mix" tapes for myself with stuff I really wanted to absorb; this was based on some advice I got from Dave Liebman that "you're not in the business of listening to music 'for fun' anymore. You need to listen in a focused way."I thought he had a good point, since this was during a time when I was in a literal deluge of sound, from recorded music to live performances to street noise, and narrowing down the variety into more digestible pieces seemed like a good idea. And since it had never been easy for me to memorize recorded solos by ear, I had a certain amount of envy and perplexity toward those smartasses who'd strut by the equipment room at my school singing along with whatever record I was listening to. (Note to music students: this is always annoying. Nobody cares that you can sing Coltrane's solo on "Oleo." Go show off somewhere else.)Anyway, I found that it really worked—I was soaking up these tunes on a much deeper level than I ever could have if I only heard them once every so often and along with all the other cuts on whatever albums they came from. And for the first time, I was able to sing along just like those jerkoffs at school (though I didn't do it in public). And when I felt like I was ready for some new blood (usually after a month or two), I'd make a new one, often keeping some of the cuts from the previous tape that I thought needed more attention.Over the years, the Subway Tape became the Subway CD, which became the Subway MP3 playlist—and even though I don't live on the same coast as the Subway anymore, the idea's the same. So in case anybody's interested, here's what I'm listening to on a daily basis this month (wish I could say I was analyzing these cuts as well, but with the exception of the Tom Harrell solos, I'm mostly trying to learn by osmosis for now):1. Delme Quartet - "Contrapunctus X" (J.S. Bach). Working my way through The Art of the Fugue one contrapunctus at a time.2. Bill Evans - "Five" (Tom Harrell's solo only; from We Will Meet Again). One of my favorite TH solos--learned it last year, but still trying to decipher some of his more cantankerous lines.3. Tom Harrell - "Invitation" (Tom's solo only; from Action). Another classic TH solo from the 70s. Like a textbook on great lines for minor ii-Vs.4. Steve Lacy/Roswell Rudd - "Eronel (Take 3)" (from Early and Late). A great, rollicking, recently rediscovered cut from the "School Days" band--one of my all-time favorite front lines.5. Keith Jarrett - "Life Between the Exit Signs" (from album of same name). Phenomenal early Keith with Charlie Haden & Paul Motian, playing changes in his ecstatic, slightly unhinged way. I've been wearing this album out since I discovered it last year.6. Keith Jarrett - "Vapallia" (from Facing You). Short & meditative yet brimming with technicolor creative juice.7. Mark Turner - "Iverson's Odyssey" (from Dharma Days). Just found out about this inexplicably out-of-print CD from a few years back. MT & Kurt Rosenwinkel at their thorny best. (Their lines have that technicolor thing I love so much about early Keith, albeit a little more controlled. I can't really explain it. Just check it out.)8. Horace Silver - "Nutville" (from unreleased 1965 bootleg). I got this from a friend who got it from a teacher, I think--it's the "Cape Verdean Blues" band with Joe Henderson & Woody Shaw, tearing it up with a ferocity way beyond the studio version. Yes, you can have a copy if you want it.9. Miles Davis - "Masquelero" (Antibes, 7/26/69, unreleased). Not sure where I got this, but Miles & Wayne & Chick are on fire. I've been late in checking out this version of the band, but man are they bringing the bag of chromatic ass-kicking.10. Ornette Coleman - "Rise and Shine" (from the Atlantic boxed set). This is really a great tune--I'm surprised more people don't play it. Some great Ornette & Don Cherry.