Tritone Substitution

Like Thomas Brothers, Gerhard Kubik questions the commonly-accepted paradigm that, while its rhythm is African-derived, harmony in jazz is European-derived. In an article entitled "The African Matrix in Jazz Harmonic Practices," Kubik writes: "Bebop...revived tonal-harmonic ideas transmitted through the blues and reconstructed and expanded others in a basically non-Western harmonic approach (217)." 

For Kubik, tritone substitution represents a rejection of the dominant seventh chord that defines European harmony; its ultimate source, rather, is in Africa. He writes: 

“Comparable to melodic and harmonic progressions in African music (and the blues), movement of chord sequences in bebop emphasizes resolutions in a downward direction, eliminating all memory of European leading-tone tonality… In Africa, [shifting chords downward in parallelism and semitone steps] is a familiar practice; such progressions are common in equiheptatonic tunings, often ending on a ‘raised tonic,’ as for example in the Cuambo and Khokola mambila xylophone music that I recorded in Mozambique and Malawi (207-8)."

Following are two examples of tritone substitution in jazz improvisation. First, Coleman Hawkins on "Honeysuckle Rose" (1:39): 

Bean's substitution of G-flat is jarring because it occurs right at the beginning of his solo and is completely unprepared by any melodic reference to the underlying G-7/C7 harmony of the tune. It spans an entire four bars. The melodic gesture of the first two bars obscures the G-flat major triad with lower and upper neighbor notes falling on strong beats and suggests a pentatonic sound or whole-step dyads stacked in fourths. Hawkins introduces the leading tone E in bar 4, which resolves to F in the bass in bar 5, but which Hawkins doesn't resolve melodically until bar 6. 

Charlie Parker on "Groovin' High" (35:58) is a better illustration of Kubik's argument: 

With these three-octave sixteenth-note runs---prefiguring Coltrane---Bird moves from F to E-flat via E, rather than outlining the underlying ii-V. (I have notated this as F-flat to capture its downward-resolving function as Phrygian-II.) In this example, we hear the semitone-downward-shifting parallelism, chord extensions (9ths and 13ths, which Kubik attributes to the African musical emphasis on upper harmonic partials), and lack of leading-tone resolution; all of which Kubik refers to above in his claim that harmony in bebop is ultimately derived from African, not European, sources. 

On the other hand, Dmitri Tymoczko shows that tritone substitution was used in Tristan und Isolde and Till Eulenspiegel, and he says:

"…the possibility of tritone substitution is latent in the basic voice-leading routines of traditional [Western] tonality. Over the course of its history, tonal harmony exploits this latent possibility with increasing frequency—beginning with the introduction of augmented sixths in the eighteenth century, progressing through the occassional use of tritone substitutions in the early nineteenth century and culminating in their universal acceptance in modern jazz (19).”

I suspect that the nature of syncretism in jazz music precludes the possibility of accurately discerning the genealogy of such harmonic elements. 

For his part, Bird, in an interview with John McLellan, rejected that bebop was influenced by European music and suggests rather that it was sui generis, which may offer some support to Kubik’s view: 

 JM: "How much of this change, that you were responsible for, do you feel was spontaneous experimentation with your own ideas, and how much was the adaptation of the ideas of your classical predecessors, for example as in Bartok?"

CP: "Well, it was one hundred percent spontaneous…not a bit of the music known today as progressive music was adapted or even inspired by the older composers....The thing that’s happening now known as progressive music, or by the trade name bebop, not a bit of it was inspired or adapted from our predecessors: Bach, Brahms, Beethoven, Chopin, Ravel, Debussy, Shostakovich, Stravinsky, etc.”
  

Johnny "Lily Pons" Hodges

On the topic of jazz and opera, here is an interview with Leonard Feather for Metronome in 1948 in which Charlie Parker refers to Jeep as "Johnny 'Lily Pons' Hodges." 

Jazz, Variation Form, and Brothers's "Solo and Cycle"

Brad Mehldau is perhaps the most outstanding and influential voice on piano of the last two decades. His new project with magician-drummer Mark Guiliana is one of the most exciting and inspiring recent developments in music.

Mehldau’s abilities and endeavors as a writer also set him apart  from most jazz musicians. In a series of essays for his residency at Carnegie Hall, he discusses the subject of “Creativity in Beethoven and Coltrane.”  (I find the comparison apt.)

In the second essay of that series, “Who Needs a Good Melody Anyways,” Mehldau argues that jazz improvisation on standard chord changes is an example of “theme and variations.” 

I wonder however if this designation is accurate only in the very general sense that almost all music consists of the varied repetition of certain musical elements.

The view of jazz as “theme and variations” is commonly held. There is a certain plausibility to it. Lee Konitz’s 10-step approach to improvising on standard changes incorporates the principle of variation form with its progressive rhythmic diminution of the theme. This is, however, an exercise. Its last two steps call first for a “totally new theme” and then the ultimate goal of improvisation, “an act of pure inspiration.”

Compare Gershwin's Variations on "I Got Rhythm" with Charlie Parker's "variations" on "I Got Rhythm." Is it really more or less the same process at work in these pieces? 

In associating jazz improvisation with variation form, Mehldau is correct to distinguish jazz practice from the linear and teleological forms of European classical music. As van der Merwe writes, “The matrix of the pre-ordained end seems to be a fairly recent and sophisticated development. The natural musical form is the repeated cycle” (107).

Is classical variation form closer to the “repeated cycle” of folk and dance music, and even to Baroque variation forms like passacaglia and chaconne, or to the other teleological Western classical forms? Tovey’s definition of variation form may suggest the latter: “groups of progressively developed versions of a complete self-contained theme [italics mine].”

To be sure, it is not the Baroque dances but the variation forms of Mozart, Haydn, and Beethoven we have in mind when Mehldau says “theme and variations.” Indeed, he uses the Diabelli Variations as his example. Certainly jazz is not the kind of “embroidery on a melody” which for Tovey is denoted by classical variation form---but then neither is Diabelli, as Mehldau illustrates.

The problem is not simply that Mehldau draws an analogy between jazz improvisation and variation form. Perhaps this analogy works well enough; it might even be useful. The problem is that Mehldau claims a genealogical connection between jazz and classical variation form. He says: “The chief reason why theme and variations interest me here is because they are the most significant formal device that jazz music took from western classical music.”

While the early history of jazz may have involved the “Afro-American transformation” of certain European dance forms like the quadrille, there is no indication that such a process involved the appropriation of variation form. Now, jazz and variation form may have a common ancestor, perhaps in van der Merwe’s “natural musical form…the repeated cycle.” But if the configuration of jazz does not directly borrow the classical variation form, as Mehldau dubiously argues, where does it come from?

Thomas Brothers has an intriguing answer.

In an article entitled "Solo and Cycle in African-American Jazz," Brothers contends that, much like in West African drum music, syntactical meaning in jazz results from a soloist's variable agreement with and creative departure from a relatively fixed underlying cycle. In contrast to the popular notion that jazz inherits its rhythms from Africa and its pitches from Europe, Brothers argues that pitch organization in jazz (in the form of the harmonic cycle and melodic soloing) reflects the fixed-group/variable-group syntax of traditions like southern Ewe drumming. Jazz improvisers, then, are not "trying to be little Beethovens," as Mehldau puts it, so much as they are trying to be atsimevu master drummers. 

Since jazz is syncretic, it is difficult to pinpoint the precise origins of its practices---especially because the European and African traditions that contribute to it may often have a common ancestor. Nonetheless, I think it is safe to say that any analytical approach to jazz music that does not take some view to Africa is fundamentally flawed. 

Lee on Intonation, Jackie, and Critics

The tremendous knowledge and insight shared by Lee Konitz in interviews, available in various print, audio, and video formats, provide invaluable study material for any improvising musician. As just one example, here is a short excerpt from a talk sponsored by Chamber Music America between Konitz and pianist Dan Tepfer. 

Tepfer: "Some people will say, ‘Oh, Lee Konitz plays sharp.’ But in fact, you are able to play more in tune than anybody I’ve ever heard..." 

Konitz: “Isn’t that a nice thing to say?”

Tepfer: “…It’s exactly what you just said: you will play sharp if you feel antisocial, but you’ll also play perfectly in tune if you feel social. I just think the exclusivity of intonation is something that almost nobody uses.” 

Konitz: “Well, that’s the fact, I think. Jackie McLean didn’t want to talk about [it]… I went into a club where he was playing with Cedar Walton’s trio, and the pianist Larry Willis was sitting at the bar in front of me, at the Village Vanguard. And Cedar played a couple of tunes and then called Jackie up, and Jackie was sharp. I mean, no playing around, he was sharp. And so after a little while Larry turned back to me and he said, ‘He can push it in or pull it out, but don’t leave it where it is!’ [Laughter.] And I tried to talk to Jackie afterwards—he didn’t want to talk about it. That was it, that’s the way he heard it, and it’s the way I hear it: sometimes it’s a little bit on the edge, sometimes… But some so-called critic, reviewing a record, said, ‘I can’t stand listening to this man playing flat all the time.’ [Laughter.] Jesus Christ, what could he say about the music after that.So [wagging finger] we can’t depend on those guys …”

The full video is here. 

Questioning Crouch on Bird's Mouthpiece

In his very nice new book on Charlie Parker's early years in Kansas City, Stanley Crouch briefly discusses Bird's novel approach to tone production on the alto saxophone and the mouthpiece and reed setup he used to achieve it. Crouch writes: 

"From the start, one of Charlie's goals had been to refine his tone, to get rid of that goddamn vibrato and create a sound that was built for speed. To further his cause, he took a Brilhart mouthpiece---an uncommon brand at the time---and experimented with its shape, filing it down in an effort to control the sound even further. In doing so, he was ignoring the advice of older musicians, who warned him about the possibility of brass poisoning. Players such as Tab Smith, an alto player with Lucky Millinder and Basie, had gotten infections when the sharp edge of an altered metal mouthpiece cut into their lips as the played. As was his way, Parker listened, said nothing, and then went on with what he was doing. Parker became such a proficient reworker of mouthpieces that he was soon filing away on those of his fellow band members and of any other saxophone players who trusted his skill."

While this is the first I have heard of Bird working on mouthpieces, it certainly is not unthinkable that he did. From Earl Bostic (with his [apocryphal?] razor-blade baffle) to Jerry Bergonzi (who is known to have adjusted his own mouthpieces) to a contemporary young player like Matt Marantz (who has paying customers for his mouthpiece modifications), jazz saxophonists have long engaged in re-crafting their mouthpieces. 

There are however a few implausible elements to Crouch's claim. First, the Brilhart mouthpiece that Bird played was made from "Tonalin," a kind of plastic, so he would not have been at any risk of "brass poisoning." Bird does not seem to have played a metal mouthpiece on a regular basis until 1949. Secondly, while the Brilhart "Streamline" mouthpiece that Bird played was first manufactured in 1939, there is no evidence to suggest he played it until 1945, after he had left Kansas City. Instead, as saxophone technician Nicholas Trefeil documents, when Bird was with Jay McShann around 1940, he was playing an Otto Link "ResoChamber." 

The additional matter of precisely what it means when Crouch says that Bird "fil[ed his mouthpiece] down" and whether this is the best way to put it I will leave to the mouthpiece technicians. 

In any case, it is well known from photographic evidence that Bird played many different mouthpieces, and it is not at all unlikely that he would have attempted to adjust them himself in pursuit of his idiosyncratic sound. A sound which was, after all, perfect. 

Jazz "Covers"

In the current issue of Music Theory Online, René Rusch analyses Brad Mehldau's solo performance of Radiohead's "Paranoid Android" from his album Deregulating Jazz. 

Rusch's discussion of "intertextuality" and "covers" in jazz neglects to point out that there is a categorical difference between an improvisatory jazz cover of a modern rock tune like "Paranoid Android" and the long tradition of jazz musicians interpreting American Songbook "standards" by Tin Pan Alley composers like Gershwin and Porter. The important distinction is that Broadway composers of the first half of the 20th century were strongly under the influence of jazz, the predominant popular music of the time, and that their compositions are therefore in a symbiotic relationship with the jazz performers that would use them as vehicles for improvisatory reinterpretation. Popular music of the past fifty years, including that of Radiohead, no longer bears this kind of relation to jazz. 

Perhaps it is this distance which intensifies the perceived feelings of anxiety and apprehension in Mehldau's performace of "Paranoid Android." These feelings should contrariwise be absent when the same artist approaches a standard like "All the Things You Are." 

Mike DiRubbo, "Threshold"

There is perhaps a higher proportion of milquetoast players on the alto saxophone than on any other instrument in jazz. Mike DiRubbo is decidedly not one of them. Here is the latest release from his working quintet. My brief review is reposted below:

  

"Mike DiRubbo is one of the world’s foremost alto saxophonists, and this new release from his actively working band demonstrates why. Like his forebears Charlie Parker and Jackie McLean, DiRubbo plays the alto with tenor-like toughness, as well as an immediately recognizable sound and highly personal phrasing. In true modernist fashion, DiRubbo’s compositions and improvisations survey new harmonic, melodic, and rhythmic territory while simultaneously immersed in a knowledgeable and loving dialogue with the tradition of jazz, blues, and swing. Few contemporary recordings will match 'Threshold' for fierceness and authenticity of feeling."

Buy it!