Mike Lee Jazz

Jazz is a funny business. Sometimes I think someone is playing a trick on me. There’s the thing I want to be known for, playing the tenor. Then there’s the things that I get recognized for. There’s a few of these. People always respond to my soprano playing. I practice that horn about once every six months for as long as it takes to find a good reed, whereas I practice the tenor for hours a day. There’s composing. People seem to love my tunes. I have no clue how that became my strength. Lord knows I don’t compose enough to claim this as a strength or even a focus. But, hey I like my tunes, too, so I’ll take it. There’s this underlying feeling that I’m under-appreciated as a tenor player. I’m grateful for all of the people I’ve gotten to play with and for all of the great places I’ve traveled, but I have too many open days (weeks, months) in my schedule to claim satisfaction with the way my playing career is going.

Now jazz education might be an area where I’ll actually leave a mark. Education is part of every jazz musician’s life in one way or another. We have to educate ourselves first and foremost.  If we have paid attention to the process while we were teaching ourselves to play, we probably will be good teachers. When I was learning to play, I was frustrated by the answers I was getting to my question, “how do I learn to improvise?”  I was determined to not only learn to play, but to answer this question.

As I started to book my first tours as a solo artist, I found that many of the proprietors of the night clubs I was booking would recommend that I contact the local university about doing a clinic while I was in town. I then realized that the clinics would often pay two or three time what the gig was paying, so I realized that teaching could turn these “for the love of jazz” tours into real paydays.

But while the motivation to book clinics was initially financial, a strange thing happened when I actually got in front of an audience of eager young musicians. I felt strangely “at home.” And this feeling wasn’t just about being a respected professor – although there was definitely some of that – but I found that by having an attentive audience and describing what it was that I was trying to do, before I played, an environment was created where I flourished as a performer. Suddenly, the detailed work I had been doing for years was no longer invisible or over the head of my audience. If I remarked on the importance of rhythmic variety, or of integrating blues sensibilities with more modern approaches, or of establishing a groove, and then played in a way that emphasized that quality, a certain synergy of performer and audience was  established which allowed for unusually palpable sense of understanding. Of ten the energy of these clinics was such that students would line up to buy my CD afterward – usually in much greater numbers than patrons would at a night club. Up to this point, I had experienced a great amount of frustration playing music which was often forced to compete with cash registers, the loud conversations of patrons and restaurant owners who constantly exhorted my band to play more quietly. I was just stunned by the respect and kindness that was exhibited by the students and faculty of the institutions at which I presented workshops. It was as if I had found myself.  I don’t know if this is “my purpose.” but it’s definitely part of my purpose.

I realized during my last post on practicing, that there are quite a number of ideas I have about practicing and if I could organize it, I’d probably have a book’s worth. Anyway, practicing jazz is a peculiar process, because learning jazz is a peculiar process. We strive for the ability to play creative ideas that are interactive and emotionally evocative. Continue reading »

Today was a great day. I had very few obligations and was able to practice at several different points during the day. I love to practice. Practice pays off in so many ways. It allows me to move forward in my musical development. Although the improvement isn’t strictly linear

It also pays off in terms of stress reduction and centering. I know if I’m having a disagreement with someone, and I can’t get my mind to stop thinking about the situation, a few hours of practice will straighten me right out. But most importantly, it is the process of practicing I love. As I practice blowing through a tune and some idea or pattern that I’ve been trying to incorporate comes out or something I hear in my head flows through the horn, I get such a rush, such a sense of discovery. And on a purely visceral level that act of blowing air vibrating with the frequency of the sound is invigorating and healing.

There are different goals in practicing. They usually have to do with the period in the future I’m practicing for. My focus is adjusted according to whether I’m preparing for tonights gig or a recording I’m going to make next year. I like to practice for the distant future. I want to master something that I’ll be able to execute in 6 months or longer down the line. My wife, Rebecca Harris-Lee, is an exceptional violinist, is motivated quite differently. She is much more motivated to practice for an upcoming performance because she wants to learn that particular repertoire inside and out. I resent having something I have to practice for – I’d much rather delve into my own agenda free of restrictions. That may partially explain why she chose classical music, with its emphasis on true rendering of a composer’s work, as her primary pursuit while I chose jazz music which requires more grounding in the structure of music and has more emphasis on flexibility. Today was a good day because I was able to really focus on my long term goals.

When I started becoming involved in jazz education as a clinician at colleges throughout the country, I noticed that most of my advice was based on what would have helped me at a young age. I would have loved it if someone could have told me 25 years ago to think about the kind of musician I wanted to be at 60. That’s a trip. As a young man, I was so concerned about getting good as soon as possible so that I could get the gigs, so that I could make the money and achieve the fame. This is typical motivation in our western society. If a 20 year old is considering all the years he or she has to become the musician they want to become, it might help that student avoid the pitfalls of “goal” oriented, ego-based practicing. There is no rule that a musician has to get his or her chops by 25 and then hope they’ve achieved a level that will sustain a career. Now the music industry might perceive it that way, but if mastery is our goal we can’t let the vagaries of marketability set us off course.

Future practicing and short term practicing both have their place. My attraction to practicing for long term results often leaves me ill prepared for tonights gig. In college I remember being somewhat of a rebel. I didn’t want to practice what was assigned, but I had an agenda of things that I wanted to get together. At one point, I decided that if I worked hard enough at becoming a better saxophonist all week, I would be able to play any assignment better than I could the previous week just by virtue of the fact that I’d be a better saxophonist overall. Pretty spotty logic, but it actually worked some weeks. But I was practicing 10+ hours a day during those stretches and that just seems insane to me now.

Jazz history and anecdotes are teeming with stories of musicians as legendary practicers. The amount of knowledge that needs to be learned to get to even a reasonable professional level can be tremendously daunting. It’s scholarly music. I’ve found jazz musicians to be a tremendously educated bunch. They’re concerned with the spiritual and the political and the artistic aspects of all things. They are agile with the use of language and view commonplace things in uncommon ways. It’s an honor to play this music and I try to treat the music with the highest level of regard that I can muster,  bearing in mind who played it before (and during and after) me.