Two Straight Horns of Plenty: Sam Newsome/Dave Liebman Duo

Always a pleasure to share the musical airwaves with Mr. Dave Liebman. It's a little weird playing with someone when you just want to stop playing, listen and enjoy. But it was wonderful hearing Dave respond to some of my preparations. I didn't give him any idea of what I was going to do just to see how he'd react.  And, of course, all of his musical responses were perfect. There's even a second set of this that may be even better. Not sure when I'll release it, but I'm sure it will be sometime soon.

Bringing Musical Life to the Dead

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When I received an email from vocalist Gelsey Bell asking me if I was available to play as gig at a cemetery, I wasn't sure what to expect. But after doing some research, I found it wasn't just any cemetery but the Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn, NY, the eternal residence to such luminaries at Jean-Michel Basquiat and Leonard Bernstein. 

The evening featured a wonderful cast of improvisers in solo, duo, and trio settings for 15-minute increments at a time. 

Jen Baker, trombone

Gelsey Bell, voice

gamin, percussion

Joy Guidry, bassoon 

Amirtha Kidambi, voice

Sam Newsome, sax

Cleek Schrey, fiddle

Lester St. Louis, cello

Fay Victor, voice

Gelsey Bell, voice

The photo features me with Jen Baker and Amirtha Kidambi.

There were two primary spaces: the Catacombs and the Whitney Mausoleum. We played from 7:00 PM - 10:00 PM continuously for three hours with occasion breaks. I've done a lot of gigs, but I can say with certainty that this is the first time I've improvised for three hours. It was quite an experience. Needless to say, I was quite exhausted afterward. But energized in a surreal kind of way 

I'm not sure if I'll be invited to do something like this again, but I hope everyone gets a chance to experience some like this at least once. Hats off to Gelsey Bell for having the vision to put this together.

Please check the New York Times article below.

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/09/23/nyregion/green-wood-cemetery-covid-deaths.html?auth=login-facebook&fbclid=IwAR0yFN7z6oF1dmjrkj7NWhEAl0EoN5SAlbu2EMHO6HDw1mlbngLCMX3IQ7g

And here's a short snippet demonstrating the sonic beauty of the space. I wish it was longer.

20TH ANNIVERSARY VIDEO PREMIERES EPISODE 10 - CARMINA ESCOBAR & SAM NEWSOME/DAVE LIEBMAN DUO (LIVE)

 

Just Play and Play Some More

This particular exchange from one of my Twitter posts resonates with me because as someone who spends a great deal of time in the classroom, I’m often inundated with questions from students wanting know "when" and "how." As teachers and mentors we want to be able to bring a magic formula with your pedagogical offerings. But the reality is that no advice offered would be a dealbreaker.

I started thinking about this during the COViD lockdowns, during which I developed a fascinating with fiction writing. (Yes, the book of short stories about jazz is in the works. More about that later.) As you can imagine the first thing I did was try to take lessons. Quickly realizing my fiction writing skills were hardly worthy of a teacher. I did seek help, though. I watched a ton of videos and read numerous articles. What they all taught me was that I just needed to write. One video suggested writing one short story a day for a month: short, long, good and bad. Just write. They guaranteed at the end of this creative immersion I'd come away totally transformed with a new relationship to writing short stories. 

I was reminded of Malcolm Gladwell’s 10,000 hours article. However, this exercise wasn't about putting in the hours, but learning what one knows and doesn't know, and how to get to the essence of one's craft.

Just as a writer must put pen to paper, musicians put mouth to horn, fingers to keyboard, and sticks to toms. More specifically, one must play, observe, and revise. There’s no substitute. In order to learn and progress, students and players at all levels need to be their own teachers. Your chosen musical consultant should act more as a compass than a map. They should steer you to where you’re headed, not strap you into the car and drive you there.

There are a lot of things that happen on a micro level when we play that’s difficult to articulate. Micro-actions happen that you may not even notice. And you know what? This is OK. When we walk, it would be a waste of our observation skills to notice every micro-movement of our muscles and bones. Bottom line: just get to where you’re going. Sometimes this is all you need be concerned with.

One problem with our sophisticated music education system is that we’ve grown accustomed to over-explaining things. It’s the gig. I get it! But the problem is that we’ve created a culture of aspiring musicians and artists that need to “know, NOW.” It’s great for enticing students to come to weekly lessons or pay a heathy tuition bill, but damage is done when we no longer have patience for the process. We don't want to walk our journey. We want to Uber it. This is the real tragedy of music education—especially jazz education. The classical world works differently. Students develop mostly through developing musical calisthenics, learning repertoire, and receiving coaching. These practices are essential in jazz as well. However, the true essence of jazz learning is discovery. Discovery is not something that should over-intellectualize. Which is what PhD earners paid a lot of money to learn how to do. So, of course they’re going to seize every moment.

Sometimes, you just need to play and discover things organically, and not simply listen to someone pull you along, convincing you to follow their absolute truth. The answers you seek don’t always come when you ask, but when you’re ready for them. 

In the meantime..JUST PLAY!

Are Your Musical Standards Too High?

Lowering the bar is the antithesis of what we’re taught. Go for the gusto. Be number one. Never accept anything less than the best. We’re told never to settle. I used to believe the same thing, until I discovered that so-called settling brought me much more than I imagined.

 

A little anecdotal knowledge here: The times I played the worst was when I really wanted to play well. Right before a performance, I’d be running scales and patterns seconds before I hit bandstand. Mind you, sometimes this can be a good thing, especially if you’re not warmed up or if there are few musical passages that you’re still not solid on. My situation was different. I was plenty loosened up physically. It was my mental and spiritual states that were tight and rigid. It was difficult for my creativity to seep through the cloud of neurosis that was defining my musical existence. 

 

Even career wise, the times I was doing the worst in my career was when I I really wanted to be a jazz star. I would be on a huge stage of a major festival playing for a few thousand people, upset about not getting my due. Sounds insane, I know. The funny thing is that if I had put all of that negativity aside and had just try to have fun, I would have played better and possibly put myself in a position to receive more career success.

 

Today, I’m happy to say that I’m not like that nor do I want any of that. And consequently, I continue to receive more than I ever had when I desperately wanted it. Life is funny this way.

 

Several years ago, I was hanging out with a colleague. Let’s just say he’s not lacking in the ambition department. During our conversation he mentioned the typical things ambitious musicians discuss: festivals desired, promoters whose rosters we want to get on, labels we want to sign us, etc. He began noticing I had relatively little interest in these things, and he said to me. “Man, now I see why you’re not affected by any of this stuff. You’ve basically given up.”

 

Of course, this made me laugh. I explained that yes, I had retired my neurotic business obsessions. I wasn’t concerned about playing at the Village Vanguard, or getting signed to Blue Note, or topping the critics polls. I was, however, more concerned with having health insurance, saving for my retirement; and musically speaking, having fun with my musical experiments and connecting with like-minded people. None of these things will get me on the cover of DownBeat, on a major festival or a feature in the New York Times. Why? Because this is all very average stuff. Maybe even stuff that someone who has lowered the bar for themselves would be concerned with.

And this is fine. My goal is to be average. Having just enough to do what I need to do. No more, no less. Trying to be great doesn’t work for me. This is a life lesson that has taken a few decades to learn. 

Back to my career-ambitious friend, what he perceived as settling or giving up, I saw as establishing a solid foundation for obtaining happiness. Consequently, my goals are low but my spirits are high. Even in terms of improvisation, I no longer practice to become great, I practice to become solid. Cover the basics and be done with it. If most people heard me practicing, they’d think I was an 18-year-old student attending Berklee. I practice ii-Vs through the keys, patterns, and swinging over standards. Nothing to write home about. 

But I’ve discovered that keeping my musical ambitions within limited parameters, lowering the bar, if you will, aiming to simply build a solid foundation, enables me to tap into more under-explored and un-expected territories while improvising. It's similar to the principle of opposites I often talk about. 

 

• If you want to play fast, practice playing slow.
• If you want a big, robust sound, practice playing soft.
• If you want to be become a great player achieving lots of notoriety, strive just to be an average, solid player, known by only a few. 

You’d be amazed by the results!

Life Lessons from the Garden

Those who've seen my recent Facebook posts, are aware of my newfound interest in gardening. Since the COVID-19 pandemic, I think we’ve all longed to be outdoors and not be confined to the four walls of an apartment.

 

Long story short, I recently inherited a very vibrant flower-garden, complete with two kinds of hibiscus trees, and red, white and pink roses bushes. Let’s just say that the mornings are very colorful. And I was exchanging flower pics with my good friend Leslie, a more experienced gardener, who's been mentoring me, and she suggested that I stay on top of deadheading my flowers. Of course, I had NO idea what this meant. In fact, until a few weeks ago, I had very little interest in flowers unless it was February 14th.

So all of you who are novices like me, deadheading means: to remove dead flower heads from a plant to encourage further blooming. The idea is that energy that goes into trying to maintain the dying flower head can actually be put towards a newer and healthier bloom. Immediately, I thought: there’s a profound life lesson to be learned here. At one time or another, we’ve all been told this message in different ways. 

 

 Focus of the positive not the negative.

Close old doors and new doors will open.

Clear your mind so that your spirit can shine. 

 

You get the point.

As I interpreted this whole deadheading thing from a philosophical perspective, I saw it as being about letting go. Better yet: letting go of the past and embracing the here and now so that you can enjoy a bloom-.heavy future. Furthermore, it’s about getting rid of that which can no longer serve its original purpose in a positive way.

 

In the beginning deadheading was very difficult for me. Even though the flowers were brown and shriveled, and obviously past their prime, I somehow felt I was destroying a valuable part of the flower. One might call this a type of botanical hoarding. We all know that this type of thinking extends far beyond the garden. We hold on to hole-ridden t-shirts, worn shoes, old magazines, you name it. Things that should have been thrown out five years earlier. Not to mention the emotional junk we carry around. That thing someone said to you ten years ago. That record date you didn't get the call. That tour that your student got picked to do over you. Again, withered leaves that should be deadheaded instead of being allowed to contaminate your daily vine.

 So here are the three life lessons from the garden I learned:

1.     If it’s unhealthy, get rid of it. Save the good, not the bad.
2.     It’s all about re-directing the energy away from the unhealthy, towards the healthy bloom.
3.     If you don’t get rid of the dead flowers, they will only get in the way. 

The funny thing is that once you get rid of them, you immediately forget that they were ever there. Junk is funny that way.

Unconventional Happiness

  

This particular exchange strikes a chord with me because I’ve always been the type of person who likes to help others. As I’m learning, this is not always productive. On the surface lending a helping hand is a good thing to do. We all should do it more. Where it gets tricky is when we extend our hand more than we should. Some folks see this helping hand as some form of assistance, while others may see it as merely something to slap away.

To elaborate on this further, let’s look the whole idea of misery. It took me years to learn that being miserable and being unhappy are not the same. For some, misery is the most comfortable and preferred state of being. It’s a very deliberate emotional and spiritual choice that many make. One that does not necessarily make one sad.

One of the reasons that I’m such a glass-is-half-full kind of guy is that I don't like being angry and filled with angst. Most of all, I don’t like feeling like a helpless victim. It really makes me uncomfortable. So, I do everything in my power not to stay in this negative space for very long. Consequently, if someone offers me advice, I tend not to dismiss it. One, I'm grateful that they care enough to try and make me feel better. Secondly, I’m more likely already thinking along those lines anyway. These word-comforters are most likely reinforcing what I’m already thinking.

This is very different from those who reject any positive offerings from caring friends and family, always countering with something negative. Those who get lured into this world of negativity can feel it’s their fault that their friend or family member feels bad. Why? Because in their mind, they failed to offer good advice. Here's the kicker: for some, there is no good advice. There is nothing that can be said or done that would make them see things differently. Because this is the state they want to be in. This is their preferred state of being.

A wise musician once told me that most people have the potential to be everything that they are. I now understand it. Not everyone has the same measurement of happiness. Some prefer having the heads hung low, some would not settle for anything less than the sky.

I know my assessment of how people feel and internalize things is simplistic. However, there's no denying that it comes down to a choice. Choices we make each and every day. And consequently, have to live with.

So back to the above exchange between the teacher and the student. This teacher is correct. Just because we, ourselves would feel a certain way in certain situations, it is not the default response for all. The student was incorrect is assuming that his friend’s constant worrying only brought him unhappiness. The reality is this: For some, they would not have it any other way. There are those who prefer the smiles upside down. 

Sam Newsome Trio + Amir Bey | AFA On_Line Salon

The following performance is titled Sam Newsome Trio + Amir Bey | AFA On_Line Salon. This was streamed live on Feb 18, 2021. It features an improvised musical performance by my trio with Hilliard Greene and Reggie Nicholson and some captivating visual art by Amir Bey. Arts for Art began taping the On_Line Salon series to provide performance opportunities for our artists who lost all in-person gigs due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Since then, they've presented over 40 performances featuring over 100 artists. Before the concert I was asked to give a brief statement about the music I'd be making. Here's what I wrote:

"The visual and aural aspects of the artistic expression, collectively serve as vestibules to the most vulnerable areas of our humanity. They can expose the least compromised parts of our soul. My goal as a performer has always been to speak to the eyes as well as the ears.  .

A little about my trio:

The Sam Newsome Trio was formed in the fall of 2017 initially to perform as a part of the 2017 InGardens / Arts of Art Series. The chemistry was so strong, that I knew this collaboration needed to be explored further. This inspired ME to book several gigs around New York to give them a platform to find their sound.The trio performs all improvised music, often taking visual and sound oriented musical cues from Newsome on the soprano saxophone, dictated from any number of his prepared and extended saxophones techniques—ranging from hanging chimes from his horn,balloons, tube extensions,and various sound manipulations such multi-phonics and unconventional tonguing techniques. As far the music, Newsome says, “Our goal is to take the listener on a sonic journey. There will pretty moments and ugly moments. But we all come out on the other side having experienced something very magical. 

​And we can't forget Amir Bey:

Amir Bey is a multi-discipline artist whose installations, costumes, instruments, and performances have been used in collaborative Happenings with varieties of musicians and visual artists in the US, Japan, Turkey, and France in the past few years. Recently he has been painting 11 foot scrolls in Sumi ink for themes ranging from “Lockdown,” (our current state!) to “Horizon,” (Sky and Earth).

So that's my song and dance. Enjoy the performance.

 

 

Sam Newsome & Francisco Mora Catlett: Sax & Drums

Given the number of solo concerts I've given, surprisingly I've only done a handful for sax and drum duets. The majority have been with drummer Andrew Cyrille. I hope to get this collaboration up and running again.

On Sunday, April 20, 2021, at the Downtown Music Gallery, I played a pleasurable duo concert with drummer Francisco Mora Catlett. Francisco and I been playing together for years as a part of his Afro Horn ensemble. But oddly enough, we've never played in a duo context. What's most interesting about this performance is what's not being played. It's always nice when there's room allowed for space and nuance. These things seem to bring more humanity and musicality to any playing situation. And it just seems to make music more enjoyable. It's the easiest thing to do, but then it's also the most difficult. The most obvious things in life usually are. 

In any case, this was the first concert at the DMG since their COVID-19 shut down. I'm happy to have been able to take part in their inaugural opening. Let's hope this is the beginning of many more improvised music performances to come.

 Enjoy!

Everything Saxophone Podcast w/ Donna Schwartz

Please check out my interview with saxophonist and educator Donna Schwartz. Donna resides in Los Angeles but grew up in New York. Her Everything Saxophone Podcast features a broad spectrum of illuminating interviews with fascinating saxophonists across the club. I was delighted by our lengthy chat from everything to extending techniques, to playing the soprano saxophone, and the creative process. Please check it out. We're covering a lot of interesting ground.

 

Wait and See: The Art of Patience

Here's a novel thought: Sometimes the answer is that there is NO answer—at least not at that moment. Sometimes the best solution to our musical problems is to WAIT and SEE. This is my view when teaching the daunting task of improvising, and sometimes lessons about life.

One of the biggest mistakes we make trying to help a student work out some improvisational kinks is trying to solve the problem for them right at that moment. This happens frequently. I can introduce students to strategies, but ultimately, they have to solve the problem. Some get it right away. Some take a little longer. Some never get it. As a teacher, that’s their problem, not ours. In some instances, they may discover answers to issues initially not perceived. This is one of the many beauties of traveling a path of discovery. You never know what will turn up.

For those looking to test the improvisational waters, the first thing you should do is play. And after that, play some more. I'm saying this jokingly, but I do feel this is one of the most important steps to take.

Here’s one strategy: Set the alarm for five minutes, and play the first thing that comes to mind. If nothing comes to mind, silence is the best filler. Don’t judge, don’t record, trust your improvisational instincts.

I’d give this a try a few weeks or more. But do it consistently.

The next step: Record yourself. Please do not listen to it until the next day. Do this every time you practice. Again, don’t judge. Just trust your improvisational instincts. Just let it be what it is, because it’s going to change whether you want it to or not. I’d give this a try for a week or two.

Next step: Play with another person. The first two steps teaches you trust your own inner-directed instincts. This teaches you to respond to others. Playing with others is a different beast altogether, but a necessary one. No matter what kind of language you’re learning, the only way to truly master it is to learn to converse with others.

After that: Listen to recordings. Transcribe ideas. Seek advice on the kinds of strategies used by more experienced players. But by all means, keep playing. Keep improvising. These strategies are all unique in their own way, each playing an important role in helping you to master your newly acquired improvisational language.

A Jerry Seinfeld story: During one episode of his show Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee, Seinfeld and his guest started goofing on stand-up comedy classes.

Both felt that these kinds of classes are on the silly side.

I’m paraphrasing here, but Seinfeld said this is how comedy classes should be taught.

“Go home and write jokes.

Try those jokes in front of an audience.

Then go home and write more jokes.

End of class!”

He said what I’ve been saying throughout this piece: sometimes there are no immediate answers or solutions, maybe other than time and patience. 

Here’s what life has taught me: The answers to your questions will come when you’re READY for them, NOT when you ASK for them.

The Reason I Like to Play Experimental Music

(Image by Peter Gannushkin)

Some musicians hold the belief that those who exclusively play experimental music either lack the discipline to fully master their craft or rely on abstract soundscapes to mask their limitations. In other words, they can't "really play." According to this perspective, being able to "really play" is defined by being able to improvise over moderate to advanced harmonic structures in sync with a moderate to advanced rhythmic backdrop—a demanding skill set that I continue to refine in my own practice. 

Even if they don’t say it outright, the implication is clear. I share this, not to stir up controversy, but to set the stage for a broader discussion. Before I explain why I disagree with these assertions and why I personally focus on experimental concepts, let me first introduce an intriguing study that illuminates the nature of creativity: the NASA imagination test.

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Developed by Dr. George Land and Beth Jarman, the test was designed to measure the creative potential of NASA's rocket scientists and engineers, identifying those with the most innovative thinking. The test was highly effective. Curious about its broader implications, Land and Jarman extended the study to children, testing 1,600 kids between the ages of four and five.

The results were astonishing: 98% of the children scored in the genius category for creativity. off their feet. Ninety eight percent of the children scored in the genius category of being able to come up with innovative ideas or solutions to problems. 

 

But what followed was even more surprising. When the same children were tested five years later, at age ten, only 30% still scored as creative geniuses—a 68% drop. By age fifteen, the number plummeted to 12%. Among adults over 31, only 2% remained in the genius category.

Does this mean we’re getting less intelligent? Not at all. By conventional standards, a fifteen-year-old knows far more math and language than a five-year-old. But while we grow in skills and knowledge, we lose much of our imagination—a loss often attributed to education systems that prioritize correct answers over creative exploration.

This brings us to two key ways we learn:

• Divergent thinking taps into imagination, allowing us to explore new possibilities and uncharted paths.
• Convergent thinking emphasizes judgment, critique, and arriving at a single correct answer—skills vital for acing exams but often stifling creativity.

So, why do I gravitate toward experimental music?

I’m striving to reconnect with the imaginative genius I likely possessed as a five-year-old, seeking to undo the effects of an educational system that valued correctness over creativity. While I left Berklee with refined skills, I was probably more imaginative in high school—before years of convergent thinking dulled that instinct.

Several years ago, I recall touring the West Coast with drummer Leon Parker and giving a clinic at a college along the way. Leon made it known that he was unimpressed with the older students who performed for us, but when a 12-year-old stepped up, despite his limited skills and knowledge, Leon was captivated. What stood out was the kid's imagination—something missing in the more skilled but rigid older students.

This phenomenon is common. Many music students leave college more skilled but less creative than they were in high school. They’ve been groomed to "play it right," with creativity often taking a backseat to technical proficiency. This is why many young jazz stars play in linear, predictable ways—they’ve been trained to reach a musical destination rather than to explore the journey. Sadly, many don't seem to break out of this, even as they become older and wiser.

When teaching my Music Appreciation class, at LIU-Brooklyn,  I use an improvisation exercise where students collectively create a story on the spot. The rules are simple:

1. Connect each statement to the one before it.
2. Keep it brief.
3. Don’t overthink.

College students, ages 18–21, often struggle with this. They hesitate, saying things like:

• "I don’t know what to say."
• "Nothing’s coming to me."
• "This is too hard."

By contrast, younger children I've tried this with, excel at this activity. They’re spontaneous, silly, and unafraid, focusing on fun and imagination. This aligns perfectly with Land and Jarman’s findings.

Similarly, experimental music appeals to me because it fosters this kind of divergent thinking, keeping my creativity alive and my spirit youthful. I feel as inspired today as I did in junior high—a stark contrast to many of my peers who struggle to keep music fresh after decades of treading the same paths. I guess when you know how a movie is going to end, how many times can you watch it and still get excited.  For me, experimental music isn’t about sounding "correct" but about being free—spreading sonic hope and reminding us that possibilities are endless. It’s like gazing at the sky instead of the ground: one inspires boundlessness, the other containment.

As Picasso famously said, "It took me four years to learn to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child." Like Picasso, I’m simply trying to return to that five-year-old version of myself who was bursting with creative genius.

And to further illustrate my point, here's a fun clip from a performance with Brandon Lopez on bass and Nick Neuburg on drums. We're definitely channeling our inner five-year-old!

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Perfect Intonation: Three Approaches to Sound Control

Most of us know that practicing long tones is our path to a great sound and great intonation. And we know how to do them. So, no need to preach to the choir here.  But the question I pose is this: how do we assess them?  

 

I utilize three methods. I’m sure there’s are more, but these work best me.

1. Pitch matching
2. Cents monitoring
3. Parallel intervals

 

Pitch matching:

Pitch matching is taking an external pitch and trying to match or blend with it.

When using this method, having an outside sound source is necessary. I advise using a chromatic tuner, but certainly playing notes on a piano or keyboard instrument will do. Though not the most reliable, even having another person play a note while you try to match it can also be helpful. The effective part of this method is that you have to really hear the note. There’s no subjective rationalization, it’s either in tune or out of tune. To further make this point, I suggest wearing headphones and turning the reference note way up. It’s very humbling! When I first have players do this, they usually take off the headphones after 30 seconds. The truth can sometimes be a hard pill to swallow.

 

Cents monitoring:

 

Cents monitoring is using the light or needle on the metronome to see whether you're flat or sharp.

This method is all visual. Again, you’re taking your cue from the needle or the light. You’re either to the left of the center (flat), to the right (sharp), or dead center (in tune). Another visual component to this is that when the pitch is flat or sharp a red light appears. It's green when the note is in tune. This method is great because your eyes can see what your ears sometimes can’t hear. Which is ok, too. As long as you can hear where the issues are.

 

Parallel intervals:

 

Parallel interval practicing is when you match up intervals against each other in different keys.

I find this approach to be the least accurate but the most helpful. Sometimes it’s not so much about being in tune with the tuner but being able to play in tune with the person or persons you’re playing with. So practicing intervals does this. 

 

 

 

If you're not clear on what this, this is what I mean:

 

Take the upper register for example. Play a series of perfect fourth intervals. A to D; Bb to Eb; B to E;  C to F, etc. This method is less about matching A - 440 and more about matching the person or sound source you're playing with.

 

 I’ll post some exercises later, but this should get you started in thinking about long tones in different ways. Or at least having different ways to approach them.

 

 

 

Until next time...