From a press release about my old colleague Janice Borla:
Often cited for her adventurous, risk-taking approach, Borla uses her voice as a jazz instrument and keeps vocal improvisation front-and-center in her performances. To quote noted jazz journalist and broadcaster Neil Tesser: “She shatters the stereotype of the jazz vocalist as a poseur or wannabe, infatuated with the idea of improvisation but lacking the mettle to carry it off; she’s a musician who happens to play voice.”
Well said, Neil (another old friend from my days at Northwestern University). Janice actually IS an excellent improviser who has clearly done her homework. There are only a handful of "jazz" singers who can boast of this skill. Among my favorites are Mark Murphy and Sheila Jordan.
Here's the substance of the rest of the press release:
JANICE BORLA TO APPEAR AT THE CHICAGO JAZZ FESTIVAL
On Sunday, September 2, jazz vocalist Janice Borla will present a lecture/performance entitled “The Art of the Solo” at the Chicago Jazz Festival in Grant Park. Joining her will be key members of her group: guitarist John McLean, bassist Bob Bowman and drummer Jack Mouse. The performance will begin at 2:00 p.m. on the Jazz & Heritage Stage.
Admission for this presentation is free. For more information on the Chicago Jazz Festival, visit its website.
My recommendation is to go hear these folks speak and play.
Showing posts with label jazz singing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jazz singing. Show all posts
Friday, August 10, 2007
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Jazz Singing Redux - or The Jam Session Blues
Because this illustrates the point of my previous post so perfectly, here's an extended quote from fellow Chicago bassist Steve Hashimoto. Steve plays in the house band for the longest running and highest profile jam session in Chicago, Friday nights at the famed Green Mill. Here's what happened this past Friday:
We had a singer who might not have been half bad if she’d paid more attention to singing the song and what was happening around her onstage than dancing and making meaningless “soulful” encouraging yelps; another singer who wanted to sing two songs that none of us had ever heard of, and if [pianist extraordinaire) Dennis Luxion doesn’t know the song, it’s probably worthy of being obscure; and finally a drummer who was so transcendently awful that Rick [Shandling] had to come onstage and reclaim the chair midsong.
Steve goes on to eloquently state the bane of the jazz musician (or skilled musicians in any genre, it seems to me):
Now, I know that jam sessions are, technically, the place where you attempt to prove yourself, and, intellectually, I realize that if you don’t put yourself out there you’ll never advance. On the other hand, what is it with these people? I find this mystifying, this phenomenon (and I see quite a lot of it) of people who have no business being on any stage at all, let alone one of the city’s top jazz clubs, with (and pardon me if I seem arrogant) some of the best players around. These are either people with no shame, or with no critical faculties, and probably both. I guess that some of it has to do with the American Idol mentality; everyone wants to be in show biz, but no one wants to pay the dues.
[Emphasis added for, well, emphasis.]
Finally, Hashimoto engages in a little fantasy that I believe must be archetypal among musicians:
But I tell you, I’d like to catch some of these characters when they’re on the operating table; doesn’t have to be anything major, like brain surgery or a triple bypass. Something easy, like an appendectomy, maybe, and just barge into the operating room in my street clothes and grab the scalpel from the surgeon, tell the patient that it’s okay, I’ve always had a hankering to perform surgery, I’ve practiced plenty with my surgery-minus-one videos and my inflatable dolls, don’t worry, it’ll be fine, what’s the f****** problem, why do you have an attitude about it?
As I mentioned in my Jazz Singing post, this problem is not isolated among vocalists, as Steve's story indicates. It just seems that too many civilians "listen" with their eyes, which is why attractive albeit incompetent singers are not only tolerated but often rewarded. It's not just women either, in case you're thinking I'm being a pig about this. However, with rare exceptions (and they're usually band leaders), instrumentalists who can't play do not get hired and their reputations as "instrument owners" travels like wildfire among other working musicians.
Sadly, it is often the singer who hires the band - usually because if she doesn't get the gig she will not be out there working. The public can be fooled a lot more easily than those of us on the bandstand. Sidemen, take back the night!
We had a singer who might not have been half bad if she’d paid more attention to singing the song and what was happening around her onstage than dancing and making meaningless “soulful” encouraging yelps; another singer who wanted to sing two songs that none of us had ever heard of, and if [pianist extraordinaire) Dennis Luxion doesn’t know the song, it’s probably worthy of being obscure; and finally a drummer who was so transcendently awful that Rick [Shandling] had to come onstage and reclaim the chair midsong.
Steve goes on to eloquently state the bane of the jazz musician (or skilled musicians in any genre, it seems to me):
Now, I know that jam sessions are, technically, the place where you attempt to prove yourself, and, intellectually, I realize that if you don’t put yourself out there you’ll never advance. On the other hand, what is it with these people? I find this mystifying, this phenomenon (and I see quite a lot of it) of people who have no business being on any stage at all, let alone one of the city’s top jazz clubs, with (and pardon me if I seem arrogant) some of the best players around. These are either people with no shame, or with no critical faculties, and probably both. I guess that some of it has to do with the American Idol mentality; everyone wants to be in show biz, but no one wants to pay the dues.
[Emphasis added for, well, emphasis.]
Finally, Hashimoto engages in a little fantasy that I believe must be archetypal among musicians:
But I tell you, I’d like to catch some of these characters when they’re on the operating table; doesn’t have to be anything major, like brain surgery or a triple bypass. Something easy, like an appendectomy, maybe, and just barge into the operating room in my street clothes and grab the scalpel from the surgeon, tell the patient that it’s okay, I’ve always had a hankering to perform surgery, I’ve practiced plenty with my surgery-minus-one videos and my inflatable dolls, don’t worry, it’ll be fine, what’s the f****** problem, why do you have an attitude about it?
As I mentioned in my Jazz Singing post, this problem is not isolated among vocalists, as Steve's story indicates. It just seems that too many civilians "listen" with their eyes, which is why attractive albeit incompetent singers are not only tolerated but often rewarded. It's not just women either, in case you're thinking I'm being a pig about this. However, with rare exceptions (and they're usually band leaders), instrumentalists who can't play do not get hired and their reputations as "instrument owners" travels like wildfire among other working musicians.
Sadly, it is often the singer who hires the band - usually because if she doesn't get the gig she will not be out there working. The public can be fooled a lot more easily than those of us on the bandstand. Sidemen, take back the night!
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Jazz Singing
Just read a brilliant post from jazz vocalist Carol Sloane that got me thinking again about jazz singers. Some of what I'm about to say could go for certain instrumentalists I've run across in my years behind the bass, but the worst offenders (it pains me to say) are singers.
As Ms. Sloane points out, learning to sing or play a well constructed melody is a skill that in and of itself takes plenty of time and devotion to master. Just because one knows the melody and lyric of a song does NOT mean one has the skills to improvise or scat (ugh, just writing the word makes my flesh crawl). Skilled jazz players (and the few singers who have taken the time to do so) spend YEARS learning the language of jazz improvisation in order to play meaningful solos in this style. It should be self-evident (but clearly isn't) that the necessary skills include practical knowledge of song form, theory, harmony, rhythm, jazz history and the many stylistic elements that comprise a convincing solo (melodic shape, use of space, density, inflection, etc).
It is true that many inexperienced singers (and the all too frequently heard "solo" pianist) improvise as if they've never heard this music before in their lives. Slightly less common but still epidemic is the soloist who thinks that improvising is "making up something that no one has ever thought of right in this moment". So this would mean that the only "true" improviser is the junior high kid who stands up for the very first time in "stage band" to play 16 bars on "Sing, Sing, Sing". I think we can all imagine just how that might sound.
Listening is the key. And it is not the kind of casual listening one does while making dinner. We're talking about formal, analytical listening. Why is it that good soloists spend a lot of time transcribing other people's solos? Are they trying to be copycats? No, they are learning a language. Singers: you are not born knowing how to scat. Listening to a few Ella recordings does not qualify you to shoo be do bah your way through a chorus of anything.
Recent events in my own career go right to the heart of this matter. I was trying to do a project for my jazz education website specifically for jazz singers. I went into the studio with a dear old vocalist friend of mine to record some examples of how it is supposed to be done. In the process I discovered that my (now former) friend was guilty of all of the things we were trying to help budding singers avoid! Very sad and discouraging. Our friendship ended over it.
Oh yeah, one more gripe. Sing the freakin' melody, will ya? In another wonderful post, Carol Sloane discusses learning this lesson from none other than Oscar Peterson himself.
As Ms. Sloane points out, learning to sing or play a well constructed melody is a skill that in and of itself takes plenty of time and devotion to master. Just because one knows the melody and lyric of a song does NOT mean one has the skills to improvise or scat (ugh, just writing the word makes my flesh crawl). Skilled jazz players (and the few singers who have taken the time to do so) spend YEARS learning the language of jazz improvisation in order to play meaningful solos in this style. It should be self-evident (but clearly isn't) that the necessary skills include practical knowledge of song form, theory, harmony, rhythm, jazz history and the many stylistic elements that comprise a convincing solo (melodic shape, use of space, density, inflection, etc).
It is true that many inexperienced singers (and the all too frequently heard "solo" pianist) improvise as if they've never heard this music before in their lives. Slightly less common but still epidemic is the soloist who thinks that improvising is "making up something that no one has ever thought of right in this moment". So this would mean that the only "true" improviser is the junior high kid who stands up for the very first time in "stage band" to play 16 bars on "Sing, Sing, Sing". I think we can all imagine just how that might sound.
Listening is the key. And it is not the kind of casual listening one does while making dinner. We're talking about formal, analytical listening. Why is it that good soloists spend a lot of time transcribing other people's solos? Are they trying to be copycats? No, they are learning a language. Singers: you are not born knowing how to scat. Listening to a few Ella recordings does not qualify you to shoo be do bah your way through a chorus of anything.
Recent events in my own career go right to the heart of this matter. I was trying to do a project for my jazz education website specifically for jazz singers. I went into the studio with a dear old vocalist friend of mine to record some examples of how it is supposed to be done. In the process I discovered that my (now former) friend was guilty of all of the things we were trying to help budding singers avoid! Very sad and discouraging. Our friendship ended over it.
Oh yeah, one more gripe. Sing the freakin' melody, will ya? In another wonderful post, Carol Sloane discusses learning this lesson from none other than Oscar Peterson himself.
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