The Art of Communicating Music with Body Language
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| Carl Verheyen |
WAY BACK IN THE ’70s, I was fortunate
enough to play with one
of the fathers of American
jazz drumming,
Max Roach. I was very
young and green at the
time, and, in retrospect, I
wish I had been a better
player to truly absorb the
depth of his wisdom and
experience. But encountering
a master like that
at such an early age did
have a profound effect on
my musical upbringing,
and I’m still reflecting
on some of the lessons I learned back then.
I believe you can count
the people who have had
a major effect on your
life on one hand. These
are the mentors and/or
friends that have come
along and truly shaped
you into who you are
today. In my case, not all
of them have been musicians,
but Max was definitely
one of those life
changers for me.
One of the priceless
little lessons I reflect on
every now and then was
something he imparted
to me during a performance
somewhere in
New England. I hurried
backstage after a
spirited set of improvising,
eager to hear a commentary
on my playing.
I was still learning the
language of modal jazz
(as I still am today), and
I was keen on picking
up any possible insight
I could about this amazing
music.
Although there was
a packed house, Max
stretched out on a hard
bench in the dressing room and closed his eyes
for what appeared to be
a between-set catnap.
Not wanting to disturb
him, I turned to leave
the room and let him
rest. Probably sensing
I was always the eager
student, he volunteered
one sentence without
opening his eyes.
He said, “You gotta
work on your stance, man.”
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| Max Roach’s most enduring lesson to me had nothing to do with actually playing notes or chords. |
I was hoping for
some tips about phrasing
or time or building
a solo, so I had to ask,
“What do you mean….
stance?” Max proceeded
to explain how all the
master musicians he had
played with throughout
the years had a signature
“stance.” It was
the way they held their
instrument on stage. It
was the way they
communicated
something to
the audience beyond the
notes they were playing.
It was their own personal
onstage body language.
A very small percentage
of the listeners out
there realize you’ve just
played a flat 9 on a major
seventh chord and made
it work. Maybe one perfect-
pitch-havin’ pianist
clocked your use of the
Bb melodic minor scale
on that Eb9 chord. But
for most people, it’s an
emotional feeling they
come away with. Max’s point was that anything
visual that you can give
them only helps to get
your music across.
He described working
with Charlie Parker,
and seeing him balance
that little alto sax on his
gut while ripping amazing
lines into the air. He
referenced John Coltrane,
always leaning
forward into the microphone
with unbridled
intensity. He remembered
playing with Miles
Davis in the early days,
and watching his stance
change over the years as
his confidence grew. He
said Dizzy used to raise
his trumpet to the ceiling
as if to cock a rifle,
and then let out a blistering
stream of notes
as he brought it down
towards the audience.
He talked about Sonny
Rollins’ swinging gait,
and the joyful exuberance
of Wes Montgomery—
both masters of
improvisation and communication.
He then turned to me,
and said, “You need to
think about your stance,
and what you can do to
communicate to that
part of the audience that
doesn’t know a thing
about chords, scales,
frets, or strings.”
I’ve been thinking
about that ever since.