Unsquare Dance

Dave Brubeck, in 2001

I enjoy arranging music, and the group I’ve currently been writing for is my nine piece saxophone ensemble at Hamilton College. Last fall when I was searching for an appropriate song to arrange I thought of Dave Brubeck and his catalogue of stimulating compositions. I considered “Take Five” and decided it was too obvious a choice. I then settled on one of his lesser known but equally catchy songs, entitled “Unsquare Dance.” As it turns out, I was timely without realizing it. If I had been more informed about Hollywood releases I would have known that “Unsquare Dance” was used in the hit movie “Silver Linings Playbook,” released in November of 2012, at the same time my arranging effort occurred.

“Unsquare Dance” was included on the 1961 LP entitled “Time Further Out,” a jazz interpretation of Joan Miró’s work of art entitled “Painting #25.” This work was used as cover art, and Brubeck chose the 12-bar blues as his basic format for his compositions. In his own words, he called it “a search for something new within old forms.” “Unsquare Dance,” much like “Take Five,” has a very distinctive sound to it which appeals to the average listener, whether they are jazz fans or not. The song reportedly was written hastily on the way to the recording studio, and Brubeck managed to take a piece of classic Americana (the square dance) and add a unique twist to it.

I’d like to take a look at the elements that make it so distinctive. Let’s start with a little rhythmic primer. The majority of music we hear on a day-to-day basis is based on the number 4. We call beats 1 and 3 the downbeats; and 2 and 4 the upbeats, or more appropriately the “backbeats.” Let’s take two groups of 4. To feel the basic groove we all know, tap your foot on the odd numbers, 1, 3, 5 and 7 (downbeats); and clap your hands on the even numbers, 2, 4, 6 and 8 (the backbeats).

The first thing we notice about “Unsquare Dance” is that its time signature is 7/4. Instead of a repeated pattern of 4 or 8 beats, we have a 7 beat looping phrase. One beat missing shouldn’t be that big a deal, but the effect in this music is extraordinary. This time try tapping your foot on 1, 3 and 5; and clapping your hands on 2, 4, 6 and 7, and make sure you don’t pause after 7, go directly back to 1. This repetitive seven beat phrase is the groove throughout “Unsquare Dance,” and definitely makes it “unsquare.”

Brubeck takes this groove and lays it over our old friend the 12-bar blues. In this case he both adds to and subtracts from the form. Instead of 4 beats per measure we have 7. Instead of 12 measures in the 12-bar blues, we have 6. He follows the basic I-IV-V pattern. See my blog entry on Why I Love the Blues from March 30, 2009. If we refer to one time around the 6-bar blues as a chorus, our map of “Unsquare Dance” reads as follows:

The first chorus starts out with bassist Eugene Wright playing quarter notes where we were tapping our feet on 1, 3 and 5 in conjunction with clapping on 2, 4, 6 and 7. Brubeck comes in with a very simple melodic phrase on the second chorus and it becomes more complex during the third chorus. We hear a country-sounding phrase complete with Floyd Cramer-sounding grace notes, representative of country & western piano playing. It also foreshadows the melody Brubeck will use at the end of the song. It’s worth noting that this particular piece is really the Dave Brubeck Trio. Paul Desmond’s sax was deemed unnecessary, perhaps he was one of the clappers.

After these three choruses Brubeck drops out and we have seven more devoted to the rhythmic explorations of drummer Joe Morello. Much like the previous hit “Take Five,” a steady vamps ensues while Morello explores the space in between the beats, mostly on the rims of his snare drum. Morello seems to be doing his best to make the clappers and listeners lose track of the 7-beat pattern. Brubeck called the piece “a lesson in concentration.”

After a lengthy drum solo (where I found myself saying one more chorus? One more chorus!) eventually it’s time to move on, and they do so on the eleventh chorus with a much-needed release from Eugene Wright who climbs up the minor scales of the 1, 4 and 5 chords. The twelfth chorus of the song features Brubeck paraphrasing the song “Turkey in the Straw,” an appropriate square dance tune that he fits into the 7/4 groove — this cliché is then topped by another cliché. The last two measures end with the familiar “shave and a haircut, two bits” lick, and I’m guessing this was added on the fly.

Musicians who record when microphones are employed know it is S.O.P. to remain silent at the end of a take, allowing the engineer to draw down the faders. If you listen to the original recording and turn up the volume at the end you’ll hear someone chuckling and saying “yeah.” Brubeck attributes this to Joe Morello’s expression of surprise and relief that they had managed to get through the difficult last chorus.

It is fascinating to speculate on the choices made by Hollywood music directors. We could surmise that the quirkiness of “Unsquare Dance” fits the scene where the two main characters, with more than their share of personality issues, are coming to terms with one another. Perhaps the instrumental nature of the song was a plus — no words to skew the mood. Or maybe the director just liked it and the fee for licensing was acceptable to the bean counters.

The production team on “Silver Linings Playbook” were not the only ones who found a relevant use for “Unsquare Dance.” The San Francisco Ballet choreographed movement to it, as did a duo on a “Judy Garland Variety Show.” Google recently used “Unsquare Dance” in a Google Doodle to accompany graphics paying tribute to designer Saul Bass. I did my part with the nine piece sax ensemble and was quite pleased with the results.

Try the tapping and clapping and see if you can concentrate all the way through the tune. Set aside your 4/4 routine and give it a shot.

Jazz Etiquette: The Art of Sitting In

My favorite sitting in moment, Fall 2012 at Hamilton (L-R)
Bucky Pizzarelli, Randy Sandke, Monk Rowe, Peter Appleyard.

A musician’s definition of “sitting in” is to participate in a working group, as a guest, usually to play a couple of songs. This usually occurs at the invitation of someone in the band. I have done my share of sitting in over the years, and more recently have been the inviter. The experience can be a valuable learning tool, requiring a player to demonstrate adaptability as well as performance skills.

We should make a distinction between sitting in and a jam session. Jam sessions are loose gatherings of musicians, probably without a set list, often with no defined leader, basically a group sit in. The situation we are discussing here is when an individual temporarily joins an established musical group. Sitting in should not be a complicated affair, but there are definitely some things to do, and not do, when it comes to functioning as a guest with a working band. I’ve listed some below.

DO listen to a group play a few tunes before you decide that you could make a decent contribution. This listening includes observing the chemistry of the group, their volume, the intensity, and the length of the individual solos the members play. This will serve you well if you end up playing with them, as you can become as close to a member as possible. DON’T assume that any particular group will adjust their performance to your style of playing.

Secondly, find a way to introduce yourself and perhaps facilitate an invitation. For instance, if there’s a fellow saxophone player in the group, you might introduce yourself by saying “I really enjoyed your chorus on [insert relevant name] song,” or “your tone on that ballad was really enjoyable.” You may introduce yourself as a saxophonist and see what transpires from there. Don’t take offense if you broach the subject about sitting in first and receive a “no thanks.” There’s more than one reason that a band would not have people sitting in, and it may not be personal.

DO listen for cues from the person who invites you to come up and play. For instance the leader of the group may say, “we’ll call you up during the next set to play a song” or “to play one or two songs.” This wording is chosen on purpose because it leaves them the option — if they don’t particularly like the way you play — to have it end fairly soon. A band leader or band member will rarely say, “come up and play the whole next set with us.” If they don’t know who you are or how you play that is too large a gamble. Your responsibility in this regard is to not overstay your welcome. If a band leader says “come up and play a tune,” and you do so, at the end of that song you should make the motions of exiting, saying “thanks, that was a real pleasure.” At that point you may be invited to play another. If not, everybody’s comfortable with the situation. DON’T stand there expecting to play more when you were invited to play one song.

This is a really important DO: have five to ten songs ready that you have done your homework on, that you know you can successfully pull off. These songs should be appropriate for the genre, whether they be classic jazz, bebop, or blues, depending on the group you are hoping to join. Upon invitation, DON’T get up to the bandstand and, upon being asked the question “what would you like to play” answer “whatever you want,” or even worse, “I don’t know.” If a bandleader is polite enough to offer you the choice and you turn it down you are missing an opportunity. If the leader then calls a tune you don’t know, you will be in the unenviable position of saying, “I don’t really know that.” This is definitely the wrong way to start the experience of sitting in. With blues groups this is somewhat different. Most blues are based on the twelve-bar form, and sitting in can be an easier process. I have played with blues bands where they call a tune that I don’t know, and the guitar player will simply say “it’s a shuffle in G.” A musician familiar with the genre can usually function pretty well in this circumstance. But jazz gigs are different. There’s a standard group of songs that you should choose from and be able to play without a “Real Book” in front of you.

Watch for cues on the bandstand when you start playing. The members of the group will usually give visual or physical cues about who’s going to take a solo, when it gets passed on, if there’ll be trading four-bar solos with the drums, and all those things that go into the etiquette of a jazz performance. If the band has a singer, make sure you DO NOT COMPETE WITH THEM. Vocalists abhor this. Adding unwanted background licks may terminate your welcome. The only exception is in the blues; in those two-measure spots where blues lyrics end and comments are made by horn players or guitarists.

If you’ve been invited to sit in sometime during the set, especially if you’re a horn player, have your instrument out and ready to go. I recall occasions where I have invited someone to sit in and when I called them up they said, “okay, I’ll go out to my car and get my horn.” There goes the momentum. Conversely, don’t stand next to the stage waiting for your cue. Allow the leader to bring you up when appropriate, but be ready.

After you leave the stage, DON’T immediately depart the club. This is rude. Hang out and speak to the members on their break and try to cement your relationship. At this time, it’s fine to offer your business card to someone in the band. You might preface this with “if you ever need a sub or care to make a referral for a gig you can’t do, I’d be happy to give you my card.” Above all, DON’T take this moment to approach the club owner to suggest that your band be booked at this venue. This is a classic attempt at gig-stealing; a surefire assurance you won’t be welcomed into the circle of local musicians.

Lastly, don’t think of sitting in as a competition. The gunslinger mentality that we read about in jazz history books, such as those heady days of all-night jazz jams in Kansas City is mostly gone. In that era, young players would blow into town and set up a confrontation, trying to make their reputation overnight. The object of sitting in now is to introduce yourself to fellow musicians or gain a bit of onstage experience if you are just starting out. If you are prepared and handle it well, it might lead to a gig. Think of it as being a visitor in someone’s home or a guest at a meeting. Make your contribution. Don’t overdo it. Don’t overstay. And lastly, don’t overplay.

Ann Rabson, Music Makin' Mama, 1945-2013

Ann Rabson

An obvious upside of the Jazz Archive experience at Hamilton College has been meeting 300+ interesting artists. Their personalities and stories have been varied in scope and diversity. It is also proving to be a bittersweet experience, as a distressing number of these interviewees pass away. Ann Rabson, blues singer/guitarist/pianist died on January 30. Ann was a successful blues artist, and founding member of Sapphire — the Uppity Blues Women, a group that had a successful run of 25 years. She went on to a solo career that saw her produce her own CD’s, piano books, and original compositions.

During our interview in 2007, Ann stated that she always seemed to be on the fringe of the social scene in middle school and high school. In fact, her classmates called her “Jazzbo” for her out-of-the-mainstream musical interests.

It seems that Ann was destined to travel a road less traveled from an early age. She cited a Big Bill Broonzy recording that caused an epiphany at the age of four. I’m sure she didn’t know the word “epiphany” at the time, but something about the way Big Bill sang and played moved her, and later music filled a need that social interaction never provided.

I had the pleasure of playing with Ann on numerous occasions with my three-piece band. She was an infectious and natural performer whose self-taught instrumental style was a joy to join. I recall with some amusement visiting schools after she had performed, and talking to the cafeteria ladies. Ann’s performance of “One Meatball” apparently inspired the children to ask for only that for the few days as they came through the lunch line.

Like most blues artist, Ann mainly made her living in clubs, lounges, and the blues festival circuit. In 1999, she stated that an interesting thing happened:

AR:    There’s this saxophone player who got me started in this great thing with schools.

MR:    Well he must have been crazy.

AR:    He was nuts. So you know people have been very helpful. And I mean if it was just me I’d still be playing in little motel lounges for fifty bucks a night.

I’m happy to say that that nutty saxophone player was me. For ten years I was the Artistic Director for the Arts-in-Education Institute in Utica, New York. One of my jobs was to find performances in all artistic genres that could be presented to our participating teachers, and subsequently to their students. The entertainment we sought was not your typical kiddy shows. We looked for musicians, dancers, visual artists and writers who could appeal to both adults and children, and be the basis for aesthetic education study. I caught Ann’s act at an art center near Utica in 1999, and thought she would be perfect for our program. When I approached her about performing in schools, she initially did think I was crazy. Blues for kids? In fact the blues genre is a perfect vehicle for children of all ages to embrace. Its musical and lyric structure makes it the ideal platform for teachers and students to manipulate for their classrooms and curriculums. The next summer Ann performed for our teachers, and subsequently was booked solid in our nine school districts. She went on to add this educational component to her repertoire, and I take a measure of pride that I had something to do with it.

In addition to performing classic blues songs made famous by the likes of Big Bill Broonzy, Leroy Carr and Bessie Smith, Ann did a fair amount of writing herself. Her songs ranged from adult topics with titles like “I Can’t Get My Mind Off You,” to songs specifically for the younger set, including “The Barnyard Boogie.” Ann spoke about her relationship with music theory and her writing process in our interview:

MR:    At rehearsal you said “I don’t know anything about music.” I think you were talking about the chords or the form of the song or something, but I thought that was so interesting a thing for you to say.

AR:    I don’t know the names of the chords. I’m learning them. I mean I’ve learned some of them. I’ve learned sort of the basic chords and what they are, but there are a lot of chords I play that I have no clue what they are. And I’ll ask people, what is this? And I’ll ask like half a dozen people who know a lot about music and they’ll give me different answers. See that’s why music isn’t — it’s not like arithmetic where it’s always — the same notes can be a different chord depending on factors I don’t understand it. But I can hear a lot. I’m not a religious person, I’m not a spiritual person, but I really feel that my music is best when I just get out of the way. It’s a force, or, something takes over. And I know that you’ve experienced that. And that’s when it gets — that’s why we play music, is that moment when you’re not yourself anymore. You’re just a conduit for something.

The music life is not an easy one, and Ann certainly paid her dues over the years. Even with multiple nominations for blues awards, solo CD’s and recordings with the Uppity Blues Women, the life of a blues artist is an up and down affair. Aspiring artists who envied her career would ask, “how can I do what you do?” Ann offered this answer:

AR:    I wrote an essay. And every time somebody asks me that I say “here” [gestures giving the paper]. Because as far as in the music business I guess the first thing I would say is you have to really want to do it and you have to — your idea of making a living, you have to be willing to not have maybe a big house or a new car or, you have to be — priorities. And money is important, you have to have enough to live on. But you only have a certain amount of time. You can always get more money. And you don’t want to spend your time doing something you hate. So anyway you have to be willing to make your lifestyle fit what your income’s going to be. When I went on the road when my daughter was finished with college,  the first thing I did is I had to have a day job for a while. I still played but not much. The first thing I did was I bought a piece of land and a trailer. So I paid for it, so when I started out I didn’t really need that much income. I had a place to live. Anyway, see the trick is not to go into the business thinking you’re going to make a million dollar. Roy Bookbinder says something like “yeah this is a great business, you can make hundreds of dollars a year.” I know what you’re going to say.

MR:    There was something about “how do you get a musician to make two million dollars?” “Give him four million.” Or something like that.

AR:    Right. They tell it about the farmers too. Or “what are you going to do now that you’ve won the lottery?” “Well I guess I’ll just keep playing until the money runs out.” Yeah. But anyway so that’s the first thing I tell people, is that you’re not in it for the money, you’re in it because you love the music. And then I think it’s very important for people to realize that it is a business. And if you’re not willing to do the business, or if you’re in a position to pay somebody else to do it, I mean I think it’s very important to find a booking agent for sure, and a manager if you possibly can. And you’ll have even less money. But you have more time to play music. More time. And these people, they know a whole lot more about business than I do. You know? It’s like if you’re going to do your own taxes, you’re going to end up paying more than if you hire somebody to do your taxes. So it’s the same thing. But it is a business. Somebody once said “tell them if they can possibly do anything else that they should do it.”

Ann was an example of a self-taught musician who developed the ability to play what was correct for the occasion. She knew what to play to enhance her vocals, and had a library of piano licks, mostly in the key of C, that fit her grooves perfectly. I’m not embarrassed to say that I borrowed a few of them. While she would admit to limited technique, I prefer to frame it as just the right amount to support her personal delivery.

Ann’s 1997 CD, “Music Makin’ Mama” on Alligator Records, was named after one of her original songs. She managed to combine a driving boogie-woogie groove with a lyric that included musical jargon, clever double entendres, and a healthy dose of blues braggadocio:

Well I can pound the piano/or caress your keys

Stride and boogie-woogie/on your ivories

I’ll be your lady/cross my heart

We can play in third position/’cause I know my part

I’m a Music Makin’ Mama/making music all night long.

Music Syncing

Manhattan Transfer

Saturday my wife and I had the pleasure of attending a concert by Manhattan Transfer in Albany, NY, at a venue called The Egg. Manhattan Transfer is the quintessential jazz vocal group, and is celebrating an astounding 40 years in the music business. Their concert was superb in all regards. If you’re familiar with their music you know that their intricate vocal arrangements can only be accomplished by skilled singers who have taken the time and effort to not only memorize the arrangements and lyrics, but have learned how to blend their individual vocal tones and overall volume. We sat next to the soundman, who had very little to do, and I suspect he was told to “set it and forget it.” The vocal quartet plus the three-piece piano trio were totally in sync for the whole concert; there was nothing not to like. The set list included everything from their biggest hits (“Birdland” and “Route 66”) to jazz classics (“Killer Joe” and “Sidewinder”) Music from early in their career was featured, making it apparent that their musical memories could reach both back and forward. Perhaps the most impressive piece was not the one that drew the most enthusiastic applause. The group pulled off a vocal rendition of Miles Davis’ “Tutu,” a tribute to humanitarian and political activist Desmond Tutu. Cheryl Bentyne nailed the Miles Davis solo set to lyrics courtesy of master vocalese artist Jon Hendricks. Capturing Miles Davis vocally is no easy task. Her female counterpart, Janis Siegel, similarly impressed us with her uncanny rendition of a swing era muted trumpet solo and a spot-on performance of Ella Fitzgerald’s classic recording of “How High the Moon.” Interspersed with this vocal magic were impressive instrumental solos and audience repartee, including a few corny jokes about The Egg itself (“the yolk’s on you”).

The tech required for this stellar performance consisted of four hand-held microphones, two synthesizers, the acoustic instruments, and one spotlight. The rest was up to the performers. Their expertise explains their longevity. And after 40 years they are still road warriors, traveling in short order from coast to coast and abroad. On the way home we were speculating whether they could possibly be rich after all these years of performing. I had to remind myself that “rich jazz musician” is a classic oxymoron.

Beyonce at 2013 Inauguration

We were reflecting on the experience of witnessing a live performance and speculating about how many talented groups might have performed across the country on this particular Saturday night. I contrasted it with the news hype generated by one “performance” that lasted all of 2 minutes and 35 seconds. Of course I’m talking about the Beyonce lip-synching inauguration controversy.  In reading about the Beyonce incident I was sad to learn that Whitney Houston also lip synced her incredible “Star Spangled Banner” years ago at the Super Bowl. Even now this current controversy seems to have many variations. Beyonce sang live. She didn’t sing live. The band played but the voice was recorded. The whole thing was a recording. She sang live but with a prerecorded track. The most perplexing combination of observations was that she lip synced because there was no opportunity to rehearse with the Marine band. A widely circulated photo showed Beyonce in the recording studio with members of the band. They produced a recording without a rehearsal? My own opinion is that the rather intricate arrangement written for Beyonce was not nearly as straight ahead rhythmically as most of her pop music; that she was concerned about messing up the performance and thus her image. I am aggravated to think with all the technology in this day and age that a singer can’t stand next to the conductor by the Marine band, and have the band play and sing the song. Is this too complicated?

Jerry Lee Lewis

Most people know that lip-syncing is not a new phenomenon in the music business. It was standard practice on Dick Clark’s “American Bandstand” for years. As a fan of early rock ‘n’ roll, I note that Jerry Lee Lewis was one of the few artists who insisted on performing live during his performance on that show. Thank you Jerry, for not trying to lip sync to your own wild recordings.

Perhaps after a few more inaugurations and Super Bowls, the press will breathlessly write about a diva who had the temerity to sing live, as if she wasn’t concerned enough about the performance to have a recording created to which she could mime. Maybe what we should do is simply honor the practice. The Grammys have an endless list of award categories, a few more wouldn’t hurt. They could hand out a Grammy for “Best Lip Syncing Performance at a Political Event,” “Best Lip Syncing as a Group,” “Best Instrumental Syncing on YouTube,” and so on. Then all the nominees could prerecord their acceptance speeches, lip sync them, and prevent any image-damaging spontaneity. Beyonce could receive a Lifetime Achievement Lip Syncing Award, because one thing is apparent: she does a hell of job at it.