Hi everybody. Harry Scorzo here.

I just wanted to say a few words about making a

beautiful jazz sound on our wonderful instrument, the violin (and all the other bowed
strings as well). I was just thinking about what it takes to play those simple melodic style
clichés that we rely on to compose on our feet when we improvise. One of the things I
have my jazz students do is to keep a motive notebook….a little daily journal of typical
melodic fragments they hear on records and on the radio. Along with turnbacks, cycles,
and various other materials, these motive libraries will contain some of the basic building
blocks of their improvising technique. Getting those little melody fragments sounding
stylistically correct and polished comes under the heading of what is known as “jazz
concept”. So many fiddlers don’t work out “concept” in their playing, be it jazz or
classical…and I’m thinking of some terrific violinists…folks that work their instrument
way better than I do.

Even as a young classical player, I always lead string sections full of people that basically
played better than I did. But the old guys running the group would often have me sit in
the concertmaster’s chair…because I played melody very well. There were always
armies of players that shifted more cleanly, played high notes more in tune, and that
could sight read me under the table. But when the boss wanted melody, I was usually the
guy in the hot seat. I have to say, my career has always been a little weird because of
that. Even to this day, I occasionally get a movie/tv call where they have me replace the
scoring date concertmaster’s solo because it doesn’t sound “classical” enough.

String players’ self-esteem is often inseparable from their playing ability, and they often
resent when the concertmaster isn’t better than they are. Conversely, I know some pretty
mean Paganini-type players that can’t really craft a spectacular melody. When you come
across someone that excels in both working the violin and making a beautiful phrase, just
know you’re in the presence of greatness. Anyway, getting back on task here….I’m sure
you’ll all agree that just dragging the bow across the strings and placing your left hand
fingers in the right place does not, in and of itself, guarantee nice music.
Great phrasing begins with a set of very mystical choices about what you are trying to
abstract, and how you ultimately intend to execute your abstraction. The most obvious
abstraction choice is the human voice. But a gorgeous phrase has so much information in
it that to simply say we’re extrapolating style and inflection from our human voice would
be a huge oversimplification. I couldn’t begin to find words for even a fraction of the
referential flavors in the opening phrase of something as modest as Heifitz’ rendition of
that little “Song Without Words” by Mendellsohn. You can immediately hear the human
heart telling an abstract but unmistakable story, and at the same time, you instantly
recognize an unbelievably high degree of polish, style, and finesse. Almost everyone
gets all this stuff without even being able to identify theme groups, formal architecture,
tonal materials, etc. The players style or “concept” communicates deeply and
immediately even to the average layman off the street. “Concept” is extremely powerful.
And by the way, don’t think for a minute that I view my own skills as being on the level
of Heifitz. But I do have personal experience about the subject of growing style and
concept.

As a jazz improviser I spent my early years consciously imitating saxophone phrasing to

try and make a sound that seemed appropriate in a jazz context. I realized early on that
figures like Joe Venuti, Stuff Smith, and Stephan Grapelli were playing a very antique
style that didn’t sound like the jazz I liked to listen to. I wanted to sound more like John
Coltrane. I used to learn Coltrane’s solos off of LP’s by slowing the record down to 16 ½
speed. (Hey, oldfolks….remember that slow record player speed? The only records I
ever saw that used it were Berlitz Language courses). Anyway, after I transcribed the
solo, I’d learn it up to tempo and practice along with the record, emulating the sax tone
and phrasing as closely as possible. I don’t think the average violinist practices that way.
After all, mastering traditional violin can be a huge, life long task. That extra practice I
described in the previous few sentences would be far beyond the call of duty for someone
working toward a career sitting in an orchestra.

I think many student violinists at masters and doctorate level feel that the idea of copying
another player’s style would be dishonest or unethical…beneath them on a number of
levels. But when you’re a student, I think that’s exactly what you should be doing. You
really should attempt to learn from the great stylists until you grow your own “concept”.
My theory is that the practice of style emulation actually feeds a database in your brain
that eventually allows you to figure out your own unique “concept”. Copying someone
like Fritz Kreisler’s phrase architecture would be standard curriculum for all my
advanced students (if I was a classical violin teacher). What has one got to lose by
emulating David Oistrakh, Zino Francescatti, or Miles Davis.? More importantly, what
might one have to gain?

Transcribing and learning jazz solos off records taught me that attack, decay, vibrato,
portamento, and other details of jazz language had different weight, color, and in some
cases, different meaning altogether than their classical counterparts. Integrating all those
little bits of style information logically into my performances was great exercise for the
part of my cerebral cortex that weighs in on what kind of sound I make when I put that
fiddle under my chin. How can one ever truly reach maturity without first somehow
stretching those specific brain muscles we use in growing style?

By the way, if you’re interested in the kind of language I’ve been referring to, check out
Miles Davis’ solo on the song “Freddie the Freeloader” from the “All Blues” album.
There is a whole encyclopedia of jazz lexicon in those performances that didn’t exist
before he came along. Artists like Louis Armstrong, Charlie Parker and Miles Davis are
truly rare. Most great artists master a language, but those three actually created their
own. And keep in mind exactly what I’m talking about. I’m not referring to Miles’
masterful and minimal improvised pitches and rhythms. I’m only talking about his
delivery of the content…the playing style...the “concept”. The superbly relaxed swing,
the scoops and falls, the ghost notes, and even the tone itself has palpable information
that your brain and your heart will immediately and deeply understand without any kind
of translator or manual. It’s amazing to me that something we instantly understand in our
heart and guts so clearly, could easily be picked apart in a theory class for multiple
semesters. I’m sure as we empirically analyze a solo like that, we’ll probably always be
able to find new information to enjoy. I use it to teach beginning jazz violinist’s about
jazz inflection. It’s been in my curriculum now for several years, and I’m still finding
new details. It’s wonderful on multiple levels.

…Which brings me to why I’m writing this little essay. I’ve been talking and playing at
schools a lot lately, and I now have a lot of young string player friends on Myspace. I’m
writing this for all of them, as many of them have asked me about improvising and jazz
on the violin. At the current time, there are many great books on improvising. I
recommend all the Jerry Bergonzi books, especially the one on pentatonics, and Mike
Steinel’s book “Building a Jazz Vocabulary”. You can’t go wrong with Jaime Aebersold
play-along records, and off course, all the David Baker material is useful. But, more than
anything, I urge you all to explore the problem of jazz language, and making a beautiful
and appropriate jazz sound. Once you can deliver a great sounding motive, half the battle
is already won. Unfortunately, you won’t find a book for this, and it may be the most
critical dynamic when you start practicing jazz. Listen to great “concept”and begin to
emulate masters like Miles Davis, Freddie Hubbard, and Stanley Turrentine. The more
you master great style tricks, the closer you’ll be to finding your own great style.

Best Wishes.

Harry Scorzo