Performance is a Sport

I may have a usable picture or two from my gig last week at Pearl's, which was a lot of fun, but also a lot of work. I'll try to post the pix tomorrow. Prior to the gig, I had fun getting prepared--shopping for clothes and cheap flashy accessories that look like a million bucks in the dark, sending the promo emails, contacting papers, rehearsing, practicing, formulating and reformulating the setlist, etc. I also felt excitement and a bit of fear that I might be nervous during the gig. In fact, at the gig I wasn’t nervous at all—usually I’m not, but the damn adrenaline has been known to start pumping without much provocation.

But live performance is so much like a sporting event. I started running more seriously a few years ago. It’s interesting to see how elite runners prepare for competition (not that I’m anywhere close to that, but the great thing about running is you can pretend that you’re an undiscovered Olympic talent and nothing but the stopwatch will ruin your fantasy). Visualization, systematic training, relaxation, rest—you know, The Inner Game of Tennis stuff. And yet, no matter what you do to prepare, it all comes down to that moment of truth: the day of the event, the feel of the wind, the mood of the crowd, the vibe in the band, the flow of the mind. I suppose if one aims for spontaneity as a goal then you’re going to have some ups and downs, as opposed to perfection. But perfection would be so nice, just once!

I remember watching ice skating during the last Olympics. Each contestant was struggling to do the most complex leaps ever, and so many fell. But I remember the winner, a little girl, and when she got out on the ice she was like a spinning top, a hummingbird, infallible and effervescent. In a way it was sad that womanly gravitas could hold nothing to that immature sparkler, capable of doing all the state-of-the-art spins.

Anyway, this show is over and it’s on to the next. A teacher once told me that the more you perform, the less emotional freight each gig carries and it doesn’t become such a life-and-death thing, where either you’re flying with glee and can’t sleep for days or you destroy yourself with preemptive criticism and can’t sleep for fear of the monster waiting for you. It all makes you understand the attraction of superstition and ritual in performance. You want to win, to soar, and whatever has worked in the past becomes something to cling to before each new gig.

Wayne stopped by at Pearl’s at half-time—I mean intermission—and gave Murray Low, David Flores and me our music for our gig in Nevada with the Reno Jazz Orchestra. I also had a few songs to learn for Grace Cathedral, so I had something new to focus on after the gig.

Deep Questions

Yesterday a DJ, El Leon in Sacramento, wrote to me and told me he's been playing my album consistently on his station. He asked me to answer some questions about my music—and they're really thoughtful: "Why do you sing? How do you feel about the women in Latin Jazz? In particular, how have the men of Latin Jazz treated/accepted you? Have you been treated well by your peers and how does your audience react toward you and your music?"

Why do I sing? Well, I always have. My earliest memories are of Ella Fitzgerald singing the Cole Porter songbook, a two-record set my parents had. But unlike Nancy Wilson, who just automatically got support from everyone to sing, I had to struggle a bit, so was often in a choir to avoid being branded a show-off. Even so, I kept doing it, singing in all sorts of situations (classical/opera, chamber music, Renaissance, show tunes) that weren’t my first choice, but struggling to find my niche. At some point I realized I had to stop being in choirs and focus on solo performance, as the choir work was hurting my voice—but I still love singing close harmonies. Over time as an artist you figure out what makes you different and what you do best, and you focus on that—but I’ve always been a person who likes to do a million things at once, so ultimately I tried to incorporate that into my music and celebrate the diversity of the Americas.

But also it would be interesting to look into theories as to why humans sing. I mean, I don’t think chimps or gorillas sing, do they? I find it fascinating how different animals resemble or reflect or complement different human characteristics. Dogs have always coexisted with humans, as shepherds/guards/companions. There are all sorts of scavenging animals that always live with human populations—and actually I kind of admire them for that, picking up after our mess. And humans have always loved birds—look at all our poetry and paintings. I think there, too, is a similarity that we are drawn to. Birds sing, and humans sing. Who knows why, but we do—we must. I’m sure someone’s written some theory about this.

As for women in Latin Jazz, I’m not sure I’ve had enough experience to say. There aren’t too many female band leaders out there, that’s for sure. And when you’re the only woman and the rest of the players are men, there are two factors—your gender, and the age difference. I’m not that young, but I am generally a bit younger than those I’m playing with and so it’s always hard to judge what is experience talking—and something to be respected—and what is a father figure talking—and something to be met as an equal. I like to choose my battles and I’m generally pretty easy going, but I guess the more I play and the more musicians I work with, the better sense I’ll have of how to deal with the many situations that come up as a band leader.

I’m thrilled with how my peers have treated me. I have made so many friends in music, especially through Jazz Camp and Brazil Camp and going to study in Cuba. Guitarist Vince Mansel, with whom I’ve collaborated a lot, called me up to wish me well the other day for my gig tonight at Pearls. It was the sweetest thing. I told him he always has been my best coach.

Audience reaction is generally great, though there are those gigs and rooms where it just doesn’t happen. I just read something in the Jazz Education Journal, Dee Dee Bridgewater saying that every audience is different, even in the same club, from one night to the next it’s different, and you need to play to the audience you have. It’s a conversation. You have to listen.

Wow. In answering them, I realize these are deep questions!

Caravan in Spanish

As I said, I heard Caravan done New Orleans-style in Austin last week, and I decided I'd like to do the song, so last night at 2 am I wrote some Spanish lyrics to it. But beyond that, it needs a cool arrangement. Perhaps I can get one from Wayne. Man, the list of tunes I need arrangements for is growing. Here are my lyrics:

Caravan – Duke Ellington
Spanish lyrics © 2005 Alexandra Weber Morales

Luz de las estrellas que nos guía
Misterio del viaje en demasía
Las sombras de la caravana

Duerme mi adorado aventurero
Cruzando arenas del desierto
Avanzará la caravana

Gozo el instante
Esperado amante
Descansa en mi pecho
Respiraré todos los encantos
de ti…

…Siempre a mi lado bajo el cielo
Es un oasis este sueño
Noche sin fin en caravana

The Elephant Room

I'm in Austin, Texas for 2 days, so last night I went to the Elephant Room, a nice jazz hang, and sat in with the band for a tune. I did Morning. I brought my maracas and played them instead of the usual guiro, since the guiro took up too much space in my suitcase. It was fun, and I liked the music, especially when they played Caravan with a nice second line New Orleans rhythm on the drumset and 2 horns and a flute.

It is so hot and humid here, but really green, surprisingly. Reminds me of the weather when I was in college, going to pre-season soccer. I want to go for a run along Town Lake but am not sure if I can handle this 90-degree heat. I like the birds here. Blackbirds with really long tails. Haven't seen the bats come out from under the bridge yet. Ooh, that reminds me that I was thinking the other day my usual hamster-on-a-wheel existential thoughts about music and what songs to write and what should they mean. I thought of Monet, who found this unique focus on capturing the light, the changing light, and how laboriously he worked his haystacks canvasses to show with layers and layers of paint the brilliance of one moment of the setting sun. I thought it could be cool to try to do the same thing with songs about nature. Like Peter Mathiessen, only in song. When I try to think about songs about nature, though, the only thing that comes to mind is "don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got till it's gone, they paved paradise, put up a parking lot" by Joni Mitchell.

Too Many Scales

This morning I took another stab at listening to my Jamie Aebersold Scale Syllabus CD and singing along. I really need to develop my scale knowledge and chops, both vocally and on the piano. I was just searching for some inspiration online, and found this in an essay by a guitarist named Jamie Andreas:

"Musically speaking, a scale is simply a series of notes, following one after the other. The really important thing about any scale is the SPACE between the notes, and by space, I mean the space in terms of PITCH. It is the distance in pitch between two notes that contains the EMOTIONAL CONTENT of music. This is one of the most important concepts that any musician can know, and most do know it, if only on an intuitive level."

His advice for practicing is mostly applicable to any musician, though some is guitar-specific. Basically, learn the major scales and relative minors in common keys: C, G, D, A, E. For jazz musicians it seems to me you need a few flat keys too. I wonder if the selection he mentioned has to do with open strings on the guitar? I don't know.

Then learn the pentatonic scale inside and out. But then here's the rub: for "sophisticated styles, such as jazz or fusion," you should learn the more complicated scales. This CD I have has all the modes, plus Lydian augmented, Hindu, pentatonic, whole tone, etc. Well, there you go. I'm back to being overwhelmed.

It's neat when one of these things can get you thinking in new ways, such as an odd meter that leads to a cool song or a whole tone scale that transforms a chorus. I guess the risk is that you get bogged down in the intellectual. But I guess that's not a risk if you don't know your scales!

Pandeiro Lesson

Just got back from Mike Spiro's house where I had a pandeiro lesson. He thought the instrument I bought was fine, lightweight (which is good) but a bit small, which makes it good for small acoustic gigs but pointless unless mic'd on a loud gig. I showed my measly chops. Basically, I have to practice really throwing my thumb and bouncing it against the edge for a strong open tone, and then bounce the fingertips and heel evenly (right now the heel of my hand is not hitting hard enough). We also looked at how to hold it--I'm doing fine, but you have to be careful of possible tendonitis since it's such hard work to hold it.

So my homework is, first, practice (every day, he said) the individual tones, especially swinging/bouncing the thumb. As I suspected, your right hand doesn't stay in one spot--you throw your thumb like a bass player twanging a note and then you have to get your fingertips closer in to the center of the drum.

Second, practice muffling with the middle finger of the left hand under the pandeiro. He also showed a way some people do it with their thumb on top but that's even more work.

Third, add the slap just before the open tone.

When I get really good at all that, I can come back and see him and perhaps "take it to the next level." I showed him the funk pattern I'd learned and he wasn't too impressed, saying I should just focus on the samba pattern--though he acknowledged that these days people play every rhythm, Brazilian or otherwise, on the pandeiro.

Practicing Pandeiro

After my gig on May 20, one of the musicians complimented me on my percussion playing. I was so pleased, the next day I went to Best Music in Oakland and bought myself a pandeiro. It's a 10- or 12-inch wooden one, RMV, made in Brazil. I've been practicing for a year or so on a lightweight wooden tambourine, so this is the first time I've had a real pandeiro. It'll take a lot of work to get good, but I was inspired by this article from Modern Drummer Magazine written by the magnificent John Santos (who plays on my album):

"Brazil is well known for its myriad percussive instruments. The pandeiro stands out among them all as one of the most interesting and challenging. It is used in all types of musical contexts, both traditional and contemporary, due to its tremendous versatility. In the hands of an experienced player, the pandeiro can sound like a caixa (snare drum), a ganza (shaker), and an atabaque (conga-like drum), all roIled into one. I also find it remarkable that the pandeiro is essentially played with one hand (while the other hand holds the instrument)."

I also found some excellent notation and sound samples here: http://tinpan.fortunecity.com/easy/731/pandeiro2.htm

and here:
http://proliberty.com/music/pandeiro/

I'm going to look for this video by Airto that I read about at that link. Anyway, the cool thing is how many sounds, including funk and rock, you can get out of the pandeiro.