Once upon a time, there were double bass players, the kind who—it's said—were known for their horrible hands, deformed by the calluses they'd gotten from playing the instrument with extremely high gut strings to be heard even by an 18-piece orchestra, or who used the slap technique like Milt Hinton. At best, you'd place a microphone in front of the instrument, and that's pretty much how it worked until the '70s and '80s. Then came pickups and steel strings, and the sound of the double bass went to hell...

The Pick-Ups

The piezoelectric effect of quartz crystals was actually discovered around 1880 by Pierre and Paul-Jacques Curie, and its first applications in the audio field were in the creation of transducers, or instruments capable of transforming an electrical signal into sound (loudspeaker) and vice versa (microphone). The first guitar with a piezoelectric pickup was a 1968 Gibson, and the first double bass pickups appeared in the 1970s. The sound produced was quite rich in mid-highs, not at all similar to that of a double bass, due to both the construction characteristics and the impedance matching, which I'll discuss later. Today, there are dozens of brands of pickups of all types, as well as condenser microphones that can be used with the instrument.

How can you navigate the vast array of products? There are many different types, with different installation options, though the operating principle remains the same: plates to be placed under the bridge feet, tabs to be installed under the bridge wings, single (various brands), double (Underwood or similar), electromagnetic transducers (Schertler), etc. Then there are the microphones: AKG, DPA, Shure, T-Bone, to name a few.

Obviously, if we can afford a DPA for around €500, it's fine, especially if we're playing on an outdoor stage or in a theater. But if we're using it in a club and the drummer is a bit too loud, we risk everything coming out of our microphone except the double bass. A contact pickup remains the most practical solution in these cases, but... 

…my opinion is that most of these solutions suck. No matter how much you spend on equipment, all the commercial pickups I've tried don't deliver good results. 

Barcus-Berry, Underwood, and Polytone were the most popular pickups in the '70s and '80s. The resulting sound was a mix between a children's metallophone and a ukulele in the case of the Barcus-Berry and similar devices, or a kind of meow in the case of the Underwood. All sounds far removed from the natural timbre of the instrument and my taste. I found that the Schertler offered a good compromise between powerful sound and timbre, which still remained very artificial.

I started experimenting with piezo transducers and after throwing away hundreds of wafers and other components, I found the solution that works best for me: a pickup similar to the Schertler but made of balsa wood, but the essential thing is the preamp.

The preamplifier

This is the point that almost everyone overlooks: piezo pickups have a very high impedance (even more than 5 Mohm) and the input of the amplifiers  Solid-state pickups typically don't exceed 25 kOhms. This results in the pickup being short-circuited, and frequencies aren't reproduced across the full range, so an impedance matcher is needed. In the early days of pickups, almost no one used them, and the models on the market weren't that great. To be clear, the preamp in this case isn't used to boost the pickup's signal or equalize the sound, but to match the impedance. I've been using a Fishman Bass Blender preamp with a Crown GLM200 condenser microphone and an underwood pickup for a long time. The rubbery sound of the underwood is somewhat strengthened by the attack and deep bass of the condenser microphone, producing a good compromise, but as I said before, in a small venue the microphone can cause some problems, so I started looking for a design that would work for me. I found an excellent FET transistor preamplifier schematic, with high input impedance, and I built a number of them, for myself and for colleagues and students who requested them. The best solution, however, came from a radio amateur friend of mine (Franco Bachetti, whom I thank infinitely), who gave me a beautiful box of mints containing a tube preamplifier, powered by low voltage (12V). Beautiful, rounded, smooth bass—finally the sound I was craving!

The amplifier

Amplifying a double bass with a 4 x 12" kick drum is crazy. Everything starts to vibrate: the stage, the drum heads, let alone the kick drum. The result: guaranteed feedback, a horrible sound, and always on the verge of triggering even at low volume.

Better a small 1 x 12” or even 1 x 10” amplifier, but with good power. After using the legendary 100W Polytone Mini Brute with a 15" speaker for a lifetime (which I still own and works perfectly), I had a 400W, 22Kg Mark Bass Combo 121 for many years. I'm not at all satisfied with the sound of the Mark Basses; I find it quite fake, even the new, lighter models with neodymium speakers. I must also say that I've had other problems, such as the solder joints on the circuit board that wouldn't hold up because they were too thin for the vibrations they had to withstand (I had to redo everything because the potentiometers had practically detached from the board) and the burnt-out power amps, which I replaced myself. Furthermore, matching the pickup always requires an impedance adapter. I also bought a Phil Jones Bass cube; the tone is beautiful and the output is excellent despite its ridiculously small size, but it's more suited to electric bass. The 5" speakers are too small to have a good output with the low frequencies of the double bass. In the end I solved the problem with a homemade cabinet with a 12” 300W Celestion neodymium speaker and a GK MB200 head. 

Another equally important thing: the amplifier should be placed ON THE GROUND and the volume adjusted accordingly. It's best to place it in a corner, where the low frequencies are more diffused. Experiment, as each room has its own optimal placement. In any case, absolutely NOT off the ground.

Steel or Intestine?

Many people ask me why I use gut strings, which most people view with reverential awe. “What, you use gut strings for jazz too?” or “You use gut strings in the orchestra too? How do you do that?” As if there were only one repertoire suitable for gut strings.

However: without a doubt, the gut is better. 

I started playing the double bass around 1975, teaching myself. Back then, I obviously knew nothing about strings, how to use a bow, jazz, etc. At the time, I liked a sound with a lot of sustain, little attack and a bit of a ’meowing“ quality (today I find it awful). Pickups were few and far between, expensive and had a terrible sound. I remember the Polytone, a kind of screw that was installed between the bridge feet, the Barcus Berry, a piezoelectric bar that was attached to the bridge with sticky putty, and the Underwood, a double piezo that was inserted into the folds of the bridge. The latter in particular had a characteristic mid-range, nasal sound with a lot of sustain. 

Anonymous Italian instrument – late 18th century

The strings

But let's get back to strings: the best ones for me were Thomastik Spirocore, strings that sound the same on almost any instrument, which is a good thing if you have a rubbish instrument, but a bad thing if you are lucky enough to own an excellent Italian instrument from the last century.

It was in 1989, when I started playing in a baroque music group, that I put gut strings on my instrument. At first it was a shock: everything I had learned at the conservatory seemed to not work, but then I realised that everything became easier. I had to use a little bow (slow bow) very close to the string and closer to the bridge, but I had twice the sound. The attack was immediate, without any inertia, the sound brilliant and full of harmonics and at the same time deep, very clear and crisp in fast passages. With pizzicato, the sound was much shorter, but round and percussive. To put it in comic book terms, I had gone from a double bass that goes “meow” to a double bass that goes “boom”. In short, it was another world. It's not just a question of “historically informed performances”, it's simply much better. After all, until the 1950s, almost no one used steel strings. Ray Brown, Paul Chambers, Oscar Pettiford, Scott LaFaro, Charles Mingus in jazz; and in classical music, one for all: Giovanni Bottesini, considered the greatest double bass player of all time.  All the greatest double bassists played with gut strings, and today some people wonder how they did it. Even with the electric bass, although gut strings could not be used because magnetic pickups only work with metal, all the best lines motown They were recorded with a Fender Precision and flatwound strings, which for electric bass are like using gut strings: a “fat” sound and little sustain, i.e. maximum incisiveness and rhythm.

Flaws?

The drawbacks? The cost. Gut strings are made almost entirely by hand by skilled craftsmen who have done their research to find the best “recipes”, based on texts from the past and a few ancient strings that have defied the ravages of time and survived to the present day. Therefore, the cost can vary from £400 to £1,000-1,200 or more per set. Another possible drawback is that, being organic material, the strings may differ (very slightly) from one another, even if they come from the same maker. Just like instruments, after all.

Reflections on musical phrasing in improvisation

It takes a truly high-level musician to improvise a melody that pops into his head amidst the jumble of chords that are constantly moving in time, and it takes an even more skilled musician to NOT play all the scales, patterns and language elements that he has practiced for hours and hours in his life.

Many people don't realize how much work and concentration it takes to get to the point where we can free from theory and play something we're feeling at that moment.

This idea of phrasing and creating meaningful musical phrases is one aspect of improvisation that's missing from many musicians' solos. Improvisation isn't just about using scales or inserting patterns into a chord progression; it's about creating music and inventing your own melodies.

WHAT IS A MUSICAL PHRASE?

When we improvise a musical phrase, we essentially become composers, creating new melodies on the fly based on an established harmonic progression. Therefore, studying composition, or at least becoming familiar with its elements, is essential to creating an effective musical phrase.

Let's consult some passages from the manual Fundamentals of Musical Composition Of Arnold Schoenberg.Schoenberg opens the discussion by focusing on the musical phrase, and the same concepts apply to improvisation:

• “The smallest structural unit is the phrase, a kind of musical molecule consisting of a certain number of integrated musical events, which possesses a certain completeness and is well suited to combination with other similar units.”
• “The term Sentence structurally means a unit that can be approximated to what a person can to sing in one breath. Its ending suggests a form of punctuation, like a comma.”
• “The mutual structuring of melody and harmony is difficult at first, but the composer should never invent a melody without having awareness of its harmony.”
• “Rhythm is particularly important to form a sentence. It helps create interest and variety, establishes character, and is often the determining factor in establishing the unity of the sentence.”

From this we can deduce that - according to Schoenberg - the effectiveness of a sentence depends on three factors:

1. Think in terms of the completeness of the musical phrase.
2. Awareness of the harmonic background.
3. Playing with rhythmic definition.

The idea of phrasing is very important in Schoenberg's music. Abandoning conventional harmony, chordal construction, and ignoring the V7's push toward I in his compositional system, the melody and phrasing of each piece are crucial to the listener, and this is something Schoenberg was very aware of.

Hearing a musical phrase being pronounced and developed is innate in every listener, whether done deliberately by a musician for study or unconsciously by the casual listener.

A non-musician may be as disconcerted when listening to bebop as a student hearing twelve-tone music for the first time, but in both cases the natural inclination towards melody and repetition is the lifeboat that saves us when we get lost in the sea of unknown harmony.

NO PHRASES, NO LISTENERS

Observing a concert audience and their reactions to a particular musician can be very instructive in this regard. Sometimes people are attentive to every note, other times they're distracted or chatting about their lives over a beer.

Aside from the differences of interest that may exist in the particular audiences, What distinguishes certain musicians from others?

When a musician fails to get the listener's attention, it is often (but not always) for one of these reasons:

• He doesn't make musical phrases, or play musical ideas.
• He can't navigate the harmony, he doesn't play the chord changes, he gets lost in the structure.
• Plays without any harmonic and/or rhythmic character, strings 8 notes together without meaning, or plays without respecting the tempo or rhythmic content of the music.

If the above definitions are anything like our solos, it will be difficult to find a willing listener for a full solo.

The same phenomenon occurs when listening to someone speak in public. If they're unprepared, unfamiliar with the topic, or just babbling, the audience unconsciously begins to fall asleep.

It makes sense: why waste time listening if the person playing hasn't invested any time in showing up to the concert?

We've certainly witnessed this kind of performance, and perhaps even been protagonists of it. All these factors destroy the connection with the listener. We get lost in the tangle of notes and chords, when instead we should be thinking about communicate with the public.

Stairs are important, but they're for the rehearsal room, not the stage. If we want to move to the next level and communicate our musical message effectively, we need to go beyond the notes. We need to speak a musical language.

PHRASING PREREQUISITES

Understanding how a phrase sounds is important, but there are some things we need to develop musically before we improvise our own phrases.

Sentences will not appear out of nowhere if we are still thinking about scales and chord-tonesThey won't come to us if we have to stop to remember the next chord in the structure or what key the bridge of the song is in. If we have to think about every single note we play, it's really difficult to think of a phrase that fits well in a certain passage and ties in with the entire harmonic progression of the song.

If we want to build phrases in our solos, we need to be able to hear the different types of chords (Major, minor, V7, etc.), we need to know what notes the chords are made of, we need to internalize the tempo and character of a piece, we need to know the piece well enough that we can sing the melody and chord progression.

Musical phrases do not come from the intellect or reasoning, they come from the ear and our internal musicality.

We should think in larger chunks of time and understand the progression by ear. Go beyond the chord progression. Visualize mentally and by ear what the entire chorus sounds like and predict what our first phrase will be like and how we intend to develop it.

We construct our musical message for the listener not with single notes, but with complete musical periods.

DEVELOPING PHRASING

The blues is the perfect vehicle for working on phrasing, a 12-bar structure with a small harmonic movement, I-IV-I-V7-I.

The movement from the first to the fourth and back again is perfect for developing a simple musical phrase: we play an idea on the first degree, develop it on the fourth, and complete it on the second-fifth. A statement and a response.

Let's take a look at this first Miles Davis chorus on “Blues By Five” (from Cookin'):

Let's look at these 12 lines Not Not from the perspective of chord analysis, but from the perspective of phrasing. Instead of thinking about each chord, let's look at these 12 bars as a single piece. Miles plays three distinct phrases:

Each idea leads to the next logically and seamlessly. There's breathing room after each phrase, and the listener can easily follow the line's development.

When we analyze a solo transcribed on paper, we get stuck on a note-by-note approach, but that's not how we listen to music. Put on a record and you'll realize that we don't listen note by note; we hear musical phrases and ideas. This is how we should think when we transcribe a solo and when we improvise a solo.

PLAY WHAT YOU WOULD SING

Another important part of phrasing is striving for a vocal quality in our lines, as if the notes we play were something we would naturally sing.

Chet Baker is a great example of a musician who always played what he felt. Whether he played his ideas on the trumpet or sang, the musical phrasing was always the same.

Musical phrasing is the natural result of listening to hundreds of recordings, transcribing solos and melodies, yet it is the result of developing our ear, studying theory and chord progressions and melodies, to the point that we don't have to consciously think about them.

After some time, the idea of forming a musical phrase that we hear in our head will seem natural. Just as we learned to speak, we'll begin to improvise meaningful musical phrases and develop them into our solos.

Let's keep in mind that thinking about phrases is just the beginning. Once we're accustomed to playing phrases, we can use other techniques to further develop our ideas. However we develop our solos, let's maintain a mindset focused on musical phrasing every time we improvise.

“Perfection is the enemy of excellence” (...)
“Perfection is always one step away from perfection” (...)
“If I had waited to be perfect, I would never have written a word” (Margaret Atwood)

WHY PERFECTION IS THE ENEMY OF JAZZ

Everyone hopes to be perfect one day or another. To play with perfect intonation, perfect lines, perfect sound... but what if we thought instead that the very idea of perfection is what holds us back? This aspiration for perfection can not only damage our daily practice, but it can take away the fun and pleasure of discovery, the whole process of learning.

Playing jazz is one of the most individual pursuits we can embark upon. Think for a moment about Charlie Parker, John Coltrane, Thelonious Monk, Oscar Peterson, Bill Evans... each individual is completely original, unique.

But often the way jazz is taught is anything but individualistic, as if there were a “standard” way of playing and thinking about jazz, with universally accepted norms of what is “good” and what is “bad”. That every chord requires a certain scale, every instrument must sound a certain way, and every jazz musician must approach music in a similar way.

But the idea of perfection is exactly that: an idea, created and supported by those around us, by our influences, our teachers, friends, and above all, ourselves.

Over time, this idea of perfection in terms of sound, technique, and even what jazz itself is, tends to direct and limit the way we approach music.

HOW THE IDEA OF PERFECTION ARISES

We do not have this idea innate in our minds; at a certain point, we become curious to know what perfection might be...

We play jazz for the energy it gives us, because we feel carried away by the music, but as we continue with our study, analysis and rationalisation, the flame stops burning as it did before.

It all begins with our first obsession with one of our musical heroes...

Imitating, copying, and dismantling one of our favourite musicians piece by piece is essential to the learning process, but we often lose ourselves in the musician themselves, elevating them to such a level of greatness that we can never hope to achieve.

Our musical hero thus acquires this image of perfection in our minds, and everything we do with our instrument, from searching for tone to lines, phrases, and timing, must be measured against him. We have created this idea of the perfect musician, who does everything in the only “right way”, and we are very far from that.

But the idea of perfection does not stop there. As we study the technique, sound and repertoire of the instrument, an image of instrumental perfection emerges, where we fix in our minds what it means to have “great technique” or a “beautiful sound”, even though these are part of individual interpretation. For example, Oscar Peterson and Bill Evans both have great technique and beautiful sound, but they are completely different, to the point that they are recognisable from a single note or chord.

We go so far as to construct an idea in our minds of what it means to play jazz “perfectly”. We have this idea of jazz perfection, which dictates everything we do, from the songs we play, to the solos we transcribe, to our general attitude, to the very meaning of “being a jazz musician” or simply “being a musician”.

We create all these ideas of perfection – consciously or unconsciously – for one reason: to help us understand what we like and what we don't like, to bring us closer to our ideal, which could theoretically be something useful.

The problem arises when we are so attached to our idea of perfection that we reject our individuality, creativity, satisfaction and exploration, which leads us to become discouraged and lose interest.

It is this obsession with perfection that sends us straight into a wall, into a cage of limitations, destroying the very engine that should drive us to learn, with enjoyment as a rewarding experience.

So, how do we recognise this obsession and how can we overcome it?

HOW TO OVERCOME THE OBSESSION WITH THE ’PERFECT HERO”

Learning from our musical heroes is fantastic, and probably the most direct way to learn the language of jazz. By playing along to recordings of the masters, we absorb details that cannot be communicated verbally or on the written page.

Let us use our heroes to inspire us, to motivate us, to understand the inner workings of jazz improvisation. Let us use them to discover, define, and create our own musical personality.

However, if we feel that we are becoming obsessed, if we feel that we want to become like them rather than ourselves, it is time to look in the mirror.

3 STEPS TO FREE OURSELVES FROM THE OBSESSION WITH THE ’PERFECT HERO”

1. We are consciously different from our heroes. – Let's make decisions, choosing to play differently from our models. For example, if they play a piece in the high register, let's play it in the low register. If they play loudly, let's play softly. If they play fast, let's play slowly. Let's distance ourselves from their choices; it can help us discover our own.

2. Let us strive to create and define our musical ego – Let's get used to learning from our role models as if we were learning from ourselves. Let's ask ourselves, for example: What do I like best about their playing? What don't I like? What would I change? What can I add? We often take whatever they play as gospel, just because them They played it. Instead, let's build on what we like, forget what we don't like, and make the material we discover our own.

3. We experiment and we are confident – Let us constantly ask ourselves: how can I take what they are doing and go further?

We use what we learn from the masters to stand on the shoulders of giants, not to stand in their shadow.

We don't have to do things the same way as our role models. Their approach shows one way of doing things, amid a boundless landscape of possibilities. We learn from role models, but we make our own decisions about what kind of musician we want to become, consciously going against the grain.

HOW TO OVERCOME “INSTRUMENTAL PERFECTION”

One of the aspects of jazz improvisation that can easily captivate us is impressive instrumental technique. When we hear a bassist like Niels Pedersen or a saxophonist like Michael Brecker, we think, “I need to play like that! I need that technique!”.

Or sometimes it's a little more subtle.

When I started studying at the conservatory, I was taught that there were a number of skills that had to be mastered in order to be a good double bass player. For example, clean sound, impeccable bowing, adherence to the string, perfect intonation... and these are objectively necessary things. Other things, such as vibrating every note continuously, are not necessary at all and are part of an aesthetic that I consider totally anti-musical, even though they are accepted by most musicians.

Learning to play in tune with a clean sound, knowing scales and arpeggios, etc., is a necessary step and gives an idea of what it means to “have good instrumental technique”. It is a good starting point.

Often, however, this is not seen as a starting point, but as a set of rules that are more important than anything else, to be respected at all costs. As in the case of studying our models, we can easily become obsessed with achieving this technical instrumental standard. Play with perfect intonation, play with perfect technique, play with perfect sound.

There is a huge difference between spending time practising every day to improve your intonation and sound, and being obsessed with having to play the instrument perfectly.

In jazz, perhaps no one plays perfectly in the absolute sense, which is what a classical musician aspires to do. Often in jazz, the intonation is imperfect, the high register is a little shrill, or the articulation can be unclear.

Jazz is not perfect music. Our models are not perfect, and they often allow themselves to make mistakes.

Even though jazz musicians study hard every day to perfect their technique, intonation, sound, etc., during performances these aspects of music take a back seat to taking risks, telling a story, and creating “musical atmospheres”. These are elements of jazz that serve to communicate with the audience.

Do not fear mistakes, there are none (Miles Davis)

(Do not be afraid of mistakes, they do not exist)

Let's move beyond the (erroneous) notion that there is only one correct way to play our instrument, or that we are not allowed to make mistakes. We are playing jazz, not auditioning for the La Scala Orchestra...

3 STEPS TO FREE YOURSELF FROM “INSTRUMENTAL PERFECTION”

1. We are at our level – Everyone starts out as a beginner, that's a fact. Let's try to feel comfortable with our instrumental level, but let's also try to make continuous progress by improving our instrumental technique. We shouldn't feel frustrated if we can't play as loudly, or as fast, or as articulately as others. Technique and sound improve day by day, in small steps.

2. We have the right to make mistakes – Jazz is riddled with so-called “mistakes”. These are part of what makes this music great. We don't need to always play it safe. The goal is to improvise and be “on point”, so let's learn to “let go”, focus on our inner voice, take risks, and try to play what we feel inside. It's not about playing our instrument with absolute perfection, it's about expressing our inner voice, sending a message, telling a story.

3. We approach our instrument as a lifelong journey. – We have our whole lives ahead of us to improve our technique. It will never be a finished job, but something we work on every day and progress slowly. Let's take the time we need and make “sustainable” improvements.

Let us not be held back by the obsession with playing our instrument perfectly; we must learn to play improvised melodies and take solos with confidence. Instead, let us integrate technical exercises into our daily practice.

HOW TO OVERCOME “JAZZ PERFECTION”

What is jazz? If we ask 100 great musicians, we will surely get 100 different answers, but when we are learning to play jazz, it certainly won't seem that way.

Sometimes it seems that we have to think about what jazz is and play it in only one way – that we have to study a specific list of musicians, in a specific order, that we have to learn a specific language, play certain pieces, and approach jazz in a specific way, in order to be a “real” jazzman...

We must completely abandon the concept of what jazz is or could be.

“For me, the word jazz means I DARE YOU (W. Shorter)

“For me, the word jazz means I CHALLENGE YOU” (W. Shorter)

Some may tell us that we must be able to play funk, rock 'n' roll, salsa, and every aspect of jazz if we want to work, or that we must know thousands of songs, or a host of other possible myths, but the truth is that:

• There is no set of rules that musicians must follow to play jazz, and there is no single way to play it.
• There are many different types of gigs, including the option of inventing our own, and there is no single way to play jazz or work as a jazz musician today. It is up to us to decide what we want to do with music, what we like, and what direction we want to take.

If we feel oppressed by someone else's definitions of jazz, let's follow these steps to break free:

3 STEPS TO FREE OURSELVES FROM “JAZZ PERFECTION”

1. Let's resist dogmas about jazz – There is no single definition of jazz. Magazines, history books, teachers, and others try to define what it is, and what it needs to be in order to be jazz, but this is only their definition. A more suitable definition might be “A musical language constructed by jazz musicians of the past, continued and expanded in all sorts of directions, each of which is unique, and above all, a language that can take us anywhere.”.

2. Let's explore what jazz means to us – What does jazz mean to us? As we delve deeper into music, the answer to this seemingly simple question changes, just as our approach to music changes.

3. Let's take action Whatever jazz means at this point in our development, let's try to move in that direction. Let's not ignore the fundamentals, but let's try to incorporate our own way of seeing music. For example, if jazz means above all playing interesting melodies, or if it's syncopated rhythms or polyrhythms, let's move in that direction. Whatever it is, let's draw inspiration from it to guide our study. Jazz is certainly not one thing: it is not a stale art form that we find in history books.

TRUE PERFECTION: EMBRACE IMPERFECTION AND PLAY FROM THE HEART

Jazz is more than just imperfection than perfection. We must discover imperfection, accept it, and include it in our language.

To understand what this phrase means, let's listen to John Coltrane, for example: we can tell it's him from the very first note he plays, not because it's perfect, but precisely because it's not perfect at all. Just as we recognise the timbre of an instrument from the most imperfect thing, the thing most similar to noise: the attack transient. We recognise John Coltrane by his imperfections, the way he reaches the high register, some notes that are slightly out of tune, his articulation...

Imperfections are what define us and our voice.

This does not mean that we should not practise playing in tune, or with a beautiful sound, or with the right articulation. It means that by working to play in tune, with a beautiful sound and good articulation, we do not get stuck on the inevitable imperfections that may be in our playing.

Our musical heroes are not perfect, no one plays jazz perfectly, and no one can define exactly what jazz is. Perfection in jazz is an illusion, so let's stop punishing ourselves. Let's remember that our voice in jazz does not lie in an obsession with perfection, but in the inclusion of our imperfections through daily work of curiosity, interest, personal discovery, and enjoyment of music.

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COIN: YOU HAVE TO BE YOURSELF (and that's it?)

Of course, there are those who take everything said above literally, but that does not mean that it is to their advantage. For some years now, certain television programmes have been repeating the same thing over and over again. “you have to be yourself” o “You have to be spontaneous.”. Most of the time, these ideas expressed in the television programme, when applied to the musical context, cause irreparable damage. In fact, singers are often out of tune or out of time, but their “coaches” tell them, “you have to be spontaneous”. The result is that dozens of young people who would like to study music think that to become musicians they must first and foremost be spontaneous, to the detriment of study, knowledge of theory, harmony, research, critical listening and knowledge of tradition. Furthermore, the musicians taken as role models are often very mediocre themselves, and taking a mediocre musician as a role model certainly does not contribute to the creation of a musical personality.

Furthermore, the phrase “it doesn't come naturally to me” is used as an excuse to cover up an inability to do something, or ignorance of certain improvisation techniques, or certain shortcomings such as poor rhythm, lack of clarity, etc.

Spontaneity is absolutely useless without knowledge.
Nowadays, the amount of information available for free is enormous, even excessive. Just type a name or a musical genre into YouTube and you will find millions of audio and video recordings. It even becomes difficult to choose a title. Here too, the need for a teacher comes into play, someone who can guide you in choosing the fundamental things and not waste time on trivial matters. Although wandering around at random can still lead us to discover something new, a targeted choice can help us progress. Whatever genre of music we want to play, there are some things that cannot be ignored. We cannot be good jazz musicians if we do not know A Kind Of Blue, just to give an example. We cannot study the double bass without knowing Charles Mingus, Paul Chambers, Ray Brown, Charlie Haden, Oscar Pettiford... but I would add that, whatever instrument we play, we cannot ignore great masters such as Charlie Parker, Thelonious Monk, Lester Young, John Coltrane, Bill Evans, Oscar Peterson, Red Garland, Joe Pass, Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughan, Billie Holiday, and many others. Or do we only play classical music? We cannot ignore the historical works of the greatest musicians of the past: Johann Sebastian Bach, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Ludwig van Beethoven, and a thousand others...

Or rather, we have every right to do so, but we will always be poor and ignorant musicians.

Unfortunately, television programmes such as X Factor have created a generation of aspiring musicians who have no idea what it means to be a musician. study an instrument, but on the contrary, they are convinced that they know almost everything about music. And above all, they are very spontaneous in expressing it.

How to study? How much? What to study?

You have an hour and a half, two, or even three hours to spare. You go to a rehearsal room, or to your home studio. You want to transcribe two solos, practice scales, study a dozen licks, learn four new standards, and practice some Aebersold standalones. After a month of this type of practice, however, you don't notice any improvement.

Do you recognize yourself in this type of behavior?

If the answer is yes, then you are part of the 90% of musicians.

How do you get into the 10% of those who are putting their efforts to good use? There are many ways, let's try to tackle one: 

The reason we don't notice improvements is that this kind of studio is too distracting. It's certainly gratifying, and the gratification comes from the fact that playing with standalone instruments gives us the impression we're playing well, in the sense that what we're doing resembles the result we'd like to achieve. Unfortunately, it only resembles the result we'd like to achieve, and this momentary gratification prevents us from delving deeper into things, severely hindering our progress in our studies. So what can we do?

One fundamental thing to keep in mind: our brains aren't capable of memorizing all that information in such a short period of time, and even if we could, it wouldn't last long. Once the study session was over, we'd have nothing left.

The goal should be simple: focus your time on very few things, and by the end of the session, you should have made some progress. Even if it's very small, it's real progress. 

To do this, we apply the four learning levels, but not the ones used (unfortunately) in our schools: advanced, intermediate, basic, and initial acquisition. This is a learning technique that allows us to break down the problem into its most basic components and work on them one by one until it is fully mastered. 

Let's take an example. We want to learn a new song. To do this, we need to:

1. learn and memorize the melody
2. learn and memorize the chord sequence
3. play it in all keys
4. improvise on the harmonic sequence (see below)

1. 1. 1. do we have material to use on major chords?
      2. do we have any material to use on minor chords?
      3. we have material to use on dominant 7th chords
      4. etc.

5. listen to different performances of the piece
6. improvise on the harmonic sequence in different keys
7. play the song with different rhythms (e.g. swing, bossa nova, rock, etc.)

We could go on and on with this list, and it would never be exhaustive.

As you can see, even a simple study topic like learning a new song can take much more than a few hours of work.

Let's start from point 1): learn and memorize the melody.

We have several options for doing so. We can read it from a fake book, perhaps with incorrect or at least inaccurate chords, or (better) listen to it performed by our favorite musicians and transcribe it (meaning we memorize the melodic line without writing it down).

But how do the 4 levels of learning work?

According to the scheme we could call them: 

1. unconscious incompetence, meaning I don't even know what I can't do. Simply acknowledging this status takes us to the next level, which will allow us to work on the topic.
2. conscious incompetence, that is, I know what I don't know how to do. I've become aware of the things I'm ignorant about, and I'm working to gain expertise in them.
3. conscious competence That is, I know what I'm doing and I apply it consciously. I've worked on the topic and am able to apply my knowledge consciously. For example, I play the theme of the piece, I remember the notes, the intervals that make up the melody, the rhythm on which the melody is built, and I can do it in different keys.
4. unconscious competence, that is, I am able to apply the knowledge I have acquired without thinking about it. So, for example, I can play the theme without thinking about the notes it comprises, the rhythm, or the key. All this happens without having to think about intervals, notes, rhythms, etc.

If we apply this scheme to each item in the list we made previously, and we get to all of them (honestly, without bluffing), we can say that we have somehow solved the problem, and made some progress. 

As Bill Evans said, the problem of improvisation is immense, it can't be solved in a lifetime, and we certainly can't solve it by working on it as a whole. That's why we need to break it down into its components and work on them one at a time, and once we've digested each, we move on to the next topic.

This applies to every single thing we want to study, even for example instrumental technique, or harmony, or reading.

The beauty of this system is that by breaking down the problem into its most basic components, we can work on one at a time and make small progress in a short time. This then allows us to imprint what we've learned in our minds, and it won't fade away.

It doesn't matter whether we attended music schools or conservatories, or no schools at all, or whether we studied for years as self-taught musicians, but when it comes down to it, there is always a problem: our solos are mediocre, or they suck, or nothing comes to mind...

It's not that ARE WE TRYING TO LEARN MUSIC AND IMPROVISATION BACKWARDS?

We read theory books, theLet's learn scales, study triads and arpeggios in every key, memorise We practise chord progressions and learn new songs, and then we try to improvise, but nothing interesting happens...

Sound familiar? This is the standard approach to jazz improvisation that we find in schools, private lessons, masterclasses, and study rooms everywhere. It is what we have become accustomed to accepting as “THE WAY” to learn improvisation.

The truth is that this learning process that is prescribed to us can easily seem like a good exercise, mixing and matching notes on chord progressions. Of course, songs change, musical styles change over time, but in the end we will always face the same challenge: cTry to put together related notes, scales, chord tones, rhythms, to somehow create an interesting musical idea.

It is frustrating and pointless to try to come up with an idea out of thin air using only music theory. That is why you hear many students say, “I always do the same things, I keep using the same scales, how can I invent melodies and connect chords?”

This problem is much more common than we imagine.

It comes from the fact that we were taught (or learned on our own) the approach to improvisation. on the contrary! In other words, we were told to start with all the elements present in a musical discourse, without ever learning how to put them together – essentially trying to create fantastic solos through reverse engineering, starting from a handful of music theory rules.

This one-sided approach to learning improvisation causes a lot of confusion and discourages everyone. Even studying theory and memorisation techniques for a long time does not actually help us improve.

However, we don't have to start from scratch every time we play a solo or resign ourselves to putting together scales and chords. The model for creating great melodies and acquiring melodic skills is contained in the music we listen to every day.

The trick is to start with the information contained in the music we listen to, rather than trying to arrive at it by chance, starting from the rules.

MUSICAL THEORY SHOULD NOT TAKE PRECEDENCE OVER MUSIC

As mentioned earlier, the typical approach common to many types of jazz and improvisation learning in general revolves around individual elements of music theory.

From our very first lesson, we dive into a world of rules and definitions, believing that this is how our musical ideas will emerge. The expectation is that with enough repetition, with enough hours of study, all the pieces of the puzzle will fall into place.

When it is time to improvise, we will place all our trust in luck, hoping for a moment of inspiration that will transform all this information into a musical phrase.

But done in this sequence, we have no idea what we are trying to do, namely how to use this theoretical information in a musical way. We have no idea about the characteristics of a melody, or the specific skills needed to create one. It is a pile of information that is useless on its own, without instructions on how to use it, and something that does not work, whatever we are trying to learn.

Imagine giving someone the ingredients for a three-course meal without giving them the recipe and cooking techniques to prepare it. Imagine throwing the ingredients on the table and saying, “Right, now get to work!”.

You would not do this and expect good results, just as you would not give an aspiring writer a list of grammar rules and expect them to come up with a successful novel or a magnificent book of poetry.

Similarly, you would not expect a musician to start improvising like Charlie Parker after learning a couple of scales and chord progressions. Under no circumstances, even with hours and hours of study and memorisation, can this approach yield good results.

Let us remember that just because we have the information does not necessarily mean that we know how to use it, or that we have the necessary skills to start improvising. A scale is just a sequence of notes; it does not come with instructions for use. If we learn the Cyrillic alphabet by heart, it does not mean that we can immediately give a lecture on nuclear physics in Russian!

It is very difficult for many musicians to accept this, but simply understanding the theory and studying scales does not mean that you can improvise melodic lines at any given moment. You have to realise that understanding the sound of a major chord does not mean you know how to play melodic lines over it, and that playing arpeggios over a chord progression does not translate into the ability to improvise melodic lines, and that turning up to play a piece after memorising the theme and chords is no guarantee of a good solo.

Once we realise that theory is just one piece of the puzzle that fits into the bigger picture of “why we play”, we will start to see improvements in our improvisation.

PUTTING MUSIC FIRST

It is a fact that every musician needs to understand theory and have a certain instrumental technique, but improvisation requires much more than that. It requires creating melody on the spot, putting all our theory and technique together to tell a story. Even if we manage to come up with some good ideas, they would be useless from a musical point of view if we do not tell our story with our sound and our melodies.

THEORY DOES NOT GIVE US INSTRUCTIONS FOR CREATING MUSIC; IT CAN ONLY EXPLAIN WHY AND HOW SOME THINGS WORK AND OTHERS DO NOT.

Continued…