Today’s blog is about something that is very private. Many
people act as if they never do it, but they do. And, without being a voyeur, you may get a glimpse of this activity. I want to talk about it because today I
stumbled upon Anat Cohen while she was rehearsing.
I was getting some coffee in the library, and suddenly heard
some wonderful music, lines of soulful notes which weren’t part of a
performance, just part of the work that has to go before a performance. It
started and stopped a few times, and only then did I realize it was live. As I walked towards the bar area, there she
was, sitting in the sun playing her clarinet on a bench slightly backstage. She
later told someone that she wanted to see how the room sounded because she was
performing here later.
So I just sat and listened.
A private concert as it were. And
I thought about rehearsal. How many
hours for example did the pianist I heard last night – whose fingers just flew
over the keyboard – spend in private practice.
Over a lifetime.
We think about it in sports, the hours spent by Michael
Jordan are chronicled and celebrated – and when we saw him play we thought
about it. Or Tiger or any of those athletes
whose performance we can so clearly tell is built on a maniacal devotion to
their bodies’ abilities.
We somehow think that musicians – jazz musicians especially
– are just jamming. They just “figgered it out”. The conversation with vocal artists today focused
on their training. Kurt Elling, Karin Allyson, Anne Hampton Calloway, Freddie
Cole, and Darmon Meader, all had classical training. Some just playing, some also singing. And in
today’s discussion, formal training was heralded, and all of the artists talked
about how much they depended on it as they moved toward jazz and
improvisation.
Turns out that many of the artists who were there at the
very beginning of jazz were also trained.
The story we always hear is that they just picked up the instruments
that were left by receding Civil War troops and “figgered them out”. In truth most of the original jazz masters
were trained – some classically, attended college, and understood their
instruments. When the migration brought
them to Chicago, these guys were playing 3 or 4 gigs per night. In dance halls,
in movie palaces, in clubs and after hours joints. And the guys from northside Chicago
high schools, like Glenn Miller, were coming down to hear them, and to copy
them.
Darmon Meader made another connection for me as well. He mentioned
jazz vocals began as singing music in the vernacular, as opposed to within the
classical rules. This rang a huge bell because it is also what was happening in
Chicago with writing as the jazz folks moved up from the south. It started with journalism and moved to
novels. The formal rules were falling
away and the writers were using the language and rythms of the actual people. Realism.
Another reason why jazz as we know it
started in Chicago, perhaps. We were starting to get used to “the real” and
moving towards it in music as well must have seemed familiar.
I also saw some “amateur” performers this afternoon. The
difference between them and the people I am here to see is clear. But it isn’t
in talent. It is in rehearsal. In time
spent “doing the homework” as the panelists said today.
After the panel I talked a bit to Kurt and he said that what
he is looking for in life is balance – between his personal life and his
professional life. I thought of the
types of things he writes and creates and the type of time and rehearsal it
takes. He presents a carefully
controlled show – and is in charge of the quality, so I am sure no corners are
cut. There is a cost to that perfection.
