The Art of Solo Saxophone: Part I

A solo saxophone jazz performance can be a challenge of the highest degree for the performer as well as the listener. And it’s certainly understandable. Even though it’s just one person on stage, we naturally want to hear melody, harmony, rhythm, variety, tension and release, clarity, and all of the other things we take for granted with groups of a more conventional size.

As someone who has spent a lot of time thinking about these things, here are three (3) suggestions that might help your solo outing go more smoothly.

1. Be prepared

I’ve found that the best way insure that most, if not all of the aforementioned things are realized is to be prepared. I always say that you have to know the material well enough that you smoothly recover from your mistakes. Nothing kills the momentum of a solo performance, especially playing a wind instrument, then playing that noticable "clonker." Nothing goes unnoticed when playing solo. Everything is subject to micro-scrutinization. When playing with a rhythm section, covering ones tracks after a fluff or clonker is easy to do. Often times you’re the only one to notice. When playing solo, however, that cracked or out of tune note can jump out at you like the boogey man on Halloween.

2. Know when to move on

Another important thing to remember is knowing when to move on to the next idea once you’ve made your point. Knowing when to stop is can be the key factor in whether or not a tune comes off great or just OK. My concerts and recordings tend to flow much better when the pieces are more compact. This can mean not fleshing the melody out too long or soloing too long. When you’re playing alone there’s natural tendency to want to overplay to make up for lack of any accompanying instrument. But oddly enough, that’s actually to time to exercise restraint and become more selective with your ideas.

When I’m preparing material for a live concert or recording, I often record myself and listen back for what I call the “bored factor.” Meaning, at what point does this start to get boring. Typically it’s when I play too long, spend too much time on one idea, or spend too much time in the same sonic space, that the b-factor starts to set in. I’m usually pretty amazed at how much of a difference 45 – 60 seconds can make. When playing solo, the version that’s 3:20 in length can seem like eternity compared to the 2:40 version.

3. Think like a story-teller

When it comes right down to it, solo playing is comparable to being a great storyteller, or even a joke teller, for that matter. If you study stand-up comics, every second of their routine is accounted for. In fact, music and comedy are two mediums that are both about controlled chaos. Sometimes it’s just the impression of being spontaneous and totally in the moment. If you hear a stand up perform his or her routine a few nights in a row, you’d be surprised at how little of it is off the cuff. Even those seemingly in the moment verbal exchanges with hecklers are typically from their expansive arsenal of insults and comebacks.

Like great musicians, great comics have impeccable timing and pacing. And when pared with equally great material—which can be jokes or a musical vocabulary—the results can be incomparable. That’s why great comics like Chris Rock and Jerry Seinfeld can walk on stage with just a microphone and have you on the edge of your seat more than multi-million dollar Hollywood blockbuster movie. Or great musicians like Sonny Rollins or Steve Lacy can walk on stage just their saxophones and take you on a musical journey more exciting than listening to an 18-piece big band. Clarity and vision can go a long way in the world of improvisation.

Exploring the Soprano's Basement

One of my favorite books for learning about jazz history and to get a quick dose of musical inspiration is Steve Lacy: Conversations by Jason Weiss. This book is a collection of Steve Lacy interviews where he talks about life, music, and most times the soprano.

Here's one excerpt that I found particularly enlightening where he talks about the bottom register of the soprano.

"The main disappointment is that hardly anybody has developed the bottom of this instrument. I must be the only one that’s really opened up the bottom. I’m waiting for somebody else to really have founded something downstairs. That’s perhaps the most interesting part of the horn, the most beautiful part, it’s most pleasant part.”

I couldn't agree with Lacy more about this. The lower register of the soprano is without a doubt the most neglected part of the instrument, second only to the altissimo. In general, this area of the saxophone is not considered part of the instrument's practical range--which is understandable with the larger members of the saxophone family; melodies and lines played on those instruments tend to sound muffled down there. On the soprano, however, this neglected area is the warmest part of the horn.

Most of us, myself included, are influenced by Coltrane's approach to the instrument, who favored the higher register, as he did on tenor. Which is great, mind you, for a certain thing--mainly intensity and cutting through the rhythm section. Intensity, however, is only a small part of what the soprano is capable of. To get to the instrument's real beauty, you have to go down stairs to the basement, so to speak. As you find with most basements (If I may keep this analogy going), it will be dirty, cluttered, and unsettling in the beginning. But once you clean it up you will discover a new place of comfort.

I suggest starting off spending a good two weeks only practicing melodies and your musical ideas only using the notes between Bb1 (low Bb) - Bb2. It's uncomfortable in the beginning, but after a few days you start to find your way though the dark, so to speak.

One of the things I like to do is practice Charlie Parker's tune "Now's the Time" in the key of Eb concert. This puts the melody right in the very bottom of the horn. You can do this with any melody, but this is a good place to start.

In the words of President Obama, "Real change happens from the bottom up."

Steve Lacy Re-Imagined

Steve Lacy was probably one the most prolific and idiosyncratic composers in jazz. He has made over 200 recordings with numerous ensemble configurations from large chamber groups, with and without text; to solo saxophone, with and without text.

One of my favorites is “Bone.” I first heard Lacy play this piece solo on his CD, Snips:Live at Environ. It was part of a eight-part suite called the “Tao Suite.”

It’s pretty common knowledge that Lacy was heavily influenced by Monk, but on this piece it’s pretty apparent, to me, anyway. If you were to compare “Bone” to the first two bars of Thelonious Monk’s composition “Thelonious,” you can definitely hear the similarities and influence. Of course, for the bridge, they each travel their own unique paths.

Lacy was also the consummate minimalist, as a composer and improviser—a few notes, a few chords, and lots of possibilities. Which is why his tunes are ideal for re-imagining. Especially for me, since I’m into always having the melody present--whether it’s playing it as a motif during my solo, or using it as an interlude.

My initial arrangement of this tune was for a gig with Dave Liebman, with two sopranos, bass and drums. However, in this video clip of my concert at Smalls Jazz Club with Ethan Iverson on piano, Gregg August on bass, and EJ Strickland on drums, I had the piano play the 2nd soprano part.

I’m looking forward to exploring more of Lacy’s stuff in the future.

Four (4) Schools of Solo Saxophone Playing

Since I began exploring this path of playing in the unaccompanied format almost 10 years ago, my style of solo saxophone playing has come to integrate four distinct approaches, ones best named by the players who developed them: 1) Anthony Braxton, 2) Evan Parker, 3) Steve Lacy, and 4) Sonny Rollins.

1) Anthony Braxton - Compositional/Improvisational

 When listening to Braxton play solo saxophone, it can be hard to distinguish between what’s written out and what’s improvised. He often combines 20th century classical composition with improvisation in its most general sense, and not necessarily jazz improvisation--where blues, swing and syncopated rhythms are at the core of the music’s aesthetic. However, the end results are always very musical. Whenever I improvise a piece on the spot, I can rarely do so without thinking about Braxton. The musical equivalent would be playing a sax and drum duo and not think of Coltrane and Elvin.


2.  Evan Parker - Sonic/Soundscape

Evan's  approach is probably the most radical and inventive of the aforementioned players because it has less to do with traditional ways of thinking about music with regards to form, rhythm, and harmony. It's more about exploring the numerous and often under-explored sonic possibilities of the instrument through the use of circular breathing and extending saxophone techniques. While studying Evan Parker’s music I thought it would be interesting to use the concept of playing multiphonics--playing two or more notes simultaneously--out of their usual role of noise and textures, and apply them in a more traditional way, such as using them to create chordal accompaniment. This potentially poses problems when playing with conventionally tuned pianos and guitars, since many of the chords produced using multiphonics are hybrid chords, borrowing from the microtonal and equal temperament scale systems.

3)  Steve Lacy - Head-Solo-Head

Steve Lacy’s style of solo saxophone is the same format used in most traditional jazz performances. Unlike Braxton, Lacy rarely wrote pieces specifically for solo saxophone. He would often take tunes that he played in duo, trios, quartets, quintets, etc., and play them solo. Of course, the solo interpretations sound a lot more free and elastic. Not to mention, that his approach is the most minimal of the four. With Lacy, it's all about sound, not virtuosity. You might say that his virtuosity comes from the way in which he deals with sound. I feel that's why he sometimes he barely improvises. He was able to make his statement with how he played the melody.



4)  Sonny Rollins - Extended Cadenza

I feel Sonny's solo saxophone approach was heavily influenced by the extended cadenzas played by John Coltrane during mid-late sixties, where Coltrane would often play cadenzas at the end of piece, usually ballads that were often longer than the piece itself. Sonny created a style of solo saxophone playing that often takes the listener on a melodic, harmonic, rhythmic, and historical journey--drawing heavily upon his calypso background. Sonny’s approach is probably more closely related to Steve Lacy’s, of the aforementioned saxophonists. The big difference being that Sonny usually played on the tune’s harmonic structure (or some type of  harmonic structure), whereas Steve Lacy’s rarely followed as easily identifiable progression. As a matter of fact, he usually played free.

Of course, they are a lot of practitioners of the solo saxophone format that are not on this list. But I narrowed it down to the four whom I think have been the most influential on me. And I can't end this post without a special shout out to Dave Liebman, Lol Coxhill, John Butcher, and of course, Coleman Hawkins, who actually started it all.

Are We Selling Our Music Short In Our Effort To Work?

Several years ago, after I had recorded my first CD, Sam I Am with Criss Cross Records, Gerry Teekens, the label’s founder and producer, asked me if I had given any thought to what I’d like to do for the next record. I told him that I’d like to record with the same musicians, and hopefully, do a better job on the next one. Well, his answer is what you'd expect to get from most labels, club owners, and promoters: “You recorded with them the last time, we need something new for the next one."










It ‘s understandable from a business perspective why one would take this position. If your project has a different name and/or members, it’s seen as something new and fresh, and hopefully, easier to sell than if it’s just a repeat of the last one. My issue with this, however, is whether or not buying into this way of dealing with our music hurts us artistically.

I call it the Post-Dave-Douglas Syndrome (PDDS)--where we feel we have to have to invent a new band concept every time we want to make a CD or be booked on a festival. In all fairness to Dave, he’s just doing his thing, and I’m sure it’s all very sincere. Not to mention, I’m singling him out because he’s been the most successful at doing this. For good reason, mind you.

Dave is a product of the Downtown musical culture, where many of its musicians often played at places like The Knitting Factory, Tonic, and The Stone, often working with many groups and configurations. And I think the premise of this jack-of-all-bands approach was quite innocent in the beginning.

Imagine this: It’s a Wednesday night, and you write four or five new compositions to be performed during an hour-long set at one of the aforementioned venues. At the end of the gig, you and your band might make a hundred dollars and enjoy a few free beers. To add to this experience, you figure why not give the group some ironic name like The Running Still Funktet, John Doe's Organized Chaos, or my favorite, The Silent Noise Trio. And if you’re an active player on this scene, playing these venues regularly, in couple of years you could easily have three or four bands.

Of course, a gig is a gig. And as Billy Higgins said, “Get to the bandstand anyway you can.” But I figure there has to be more to it than this. It can’t all be about our “bookability” and developing new angles for promoting ourselves.

If you’re a composer, always writing for and working with a different project comes with the territory. There’s a kind of finality to a concert giving by a composer. The music is often more involved, and usually requires more of a commitment from the musicians who are hired to play it. And sometimes the music is a result of a commissioning or grant—with the exception of the big band. But I’m mainly speaking about small groups that are more improvisational and band oriented--what most of us do.

Some of the best work has come from those who have made a commitment to a group or a sound, and really explored it to the fullest. Miles, Ornette, Coltrane—they’re all great examples of this. Imagine if after a making A Love Supreme, Trane put together a Brazilian project, and then a Latin jazz project, just to make himself more bookable. We would have missed out on a lot of great music.

I started thinking about this more and more after noticing how people responded when I told them that I was working on my third solo CD. The most common responses were: “ Didn’t you just do one?” And my favorite: “Another one?” And I do understand where they are coming from.

A solo CD is usually looked at as one of these momentous things you do once in a lifetime--sort of like climbing Mount Everest. Half the fun is being able to say that you did it. And once you do, you have something interesting to talk about at parties.

And solo saxophone, mind you, is even more of a novelty. There are a few exceptions, like Steve Lacy, Anthony Braxton, John Butcher, and Evan Parker, who have released large bodies of work playing in the unaccompanied format. But it’s not a musical path followed by many.

However, I do feel there’s a growing trend amongst musicians of not being committed to a single sound or musical vision. The focus is often times on finding a new project to promote or market, rather being solely focused on improving ones current one. The way that I see it is like this: Even if a couple of albums don't turn out as we'd hoped. That may only mean that it’s time to go deeper, not that you need to change your musical trajectory. I understand if it’s just not working out or if you feel that the music has run its course. Then yes, you must move on. I’ve done that myself.

We shouldn’t let one or two recordings define who we are as artists. And definitely should not cow tow to promoters, club owners, agents, only thinking about our bookability. We’ve already tried that. Musical cultures tend to flourish more when the music is actually put first, and not its commercial viability.

When we’re long gone, we want people to see our extensive discography and say, “Oh yeah, now I see what this guy was about.” Those one or two horrible CDs might become historical in that they will be seen as transitional CDs that enabled you to get to that one really great one. Look how many recordings Miles Davis made before he got to Kind of Blue.

You dig!

The Music of Monk: The Soprano Player's Right of Passage

As saxophonists, we often find ourselves having to deal with the music of certain players as a way of addressing certain sound and technical issues. Alto players have to deal with Johnny Hodges and Charlie Parker; tenor players, Coleman Hawkins and John Coltrane, and with soprano players, it's Steve Lacy and Thelonious Monk.

Lacy described Monk's music as ideal for the soprano saxophone: ''Not too high, not too low, not easy, not at all overplayed and most of all, full of interesting technical problems.''

This would explain why he spent a large portion of his 50 year career exploring Monk's music. Even though Lacy only performed with him for a few years, his impact was everlasting.

Following Lacy's lead, I took the daring leap and made Monk's music the focus of my first solo CD, Monk Abstractions. While recording this CD, I sometimes had to nudge msyelf just to take a solo. Just playing the melody of one of Monk's tunes felt like a statement within itself.

Upon hearing my recording, producer and trumpeter Don Sickler asked me to perform as a part of the Thelonious Monk 90th Birthday Celebration at the Manhattan Center Grand Ballroom. It was very exciting to play for that many people, not to mention conversing with my comedic hero, Bill Cosby.

Here's a clip from that memorable evening.

Roscoe Mitchell:Master of the Avant Garde

It's been a while since I've posted anything by Roscoe Mitchell. Roscoe is one of the players that I've gotten into in more recent years, along with Evan Parker and Lol Coxhill. He's one of the true masters of the sonic/soundscape approach to improvisation.

Free players can sometimes sound cliche-ish within that vernacular. Roscoe, however, has something unique. His ability to build solos, creating this slow burning, gradually rising, sonic boil, sets him apart from other free players. It's one thing to play flurries of notes, interspersing multi-phonics between the cracks. But it's another to be able to sustain the interest of the listener for the entirety of your solo.

Personally, I have not mastered that as of yet. As a matter of fact, my solos tend to be more on the shorter side since I have not figured out how to sustain the intensity for longer periods of time.

But in the mean time, I'll just keep checking out Roscoe. I'm sure it will come.