Improvisation on the Violin: Part I

Listening, Transcribing, and Imitating

What exactly is improvisation? I think of it as “composing on your feet”. In college, I

was a composition major, not a violin major. Many of the materials I studied in school
back then (like form, motivic development, harmony, and counterpoint, as well as private
study in composition) would eventually come to benefit me as an improviser. The only
differences between my conservatory studies and what I do today have to do with
applying my skills in the moment with my instrument in hand…and not with a pencil and
paper (or a midi keyboard and sequencer).

As a novice improviser, I looked for information in the most logical places I could think
of looking. I begin to read the monthly publication, “Downbeat Magazine”. It was there
that I made some spectacular discoveries. One of the single most important things I’ve
ever read on the subject was a series of articles on jazz violin by Dr. David Baker. In
those articles, he explained the difference between the swing styles of players like
Stephan Grappelli, Stuff Smith, and Joe Venuti, and went on to say that jazz fiddlers
hadn’t really made the stylistic leap to bebop and beyond (with the exception of a young
French violinist named Jean Luc Ponty, who’s example would later open the door to the
possibility of who I am today).

After Dr. Baker specifically identified the details of that older “swing” style…dotted
eighth and sixteenth rhythm and diatonic harmony, he then proceeded to present the
definition of be-bop and jazz techniques after the late forties, pointing out a broader and
more layed back type of swing, the lack of vibrato, and more complex harmony among
other things. He even presented a way to learn how to play it. That was the first time I
ever saw it spelled out in black and white that you had to learn things off records, and
then practice those elements in all twelve keys. He suggested slowing down the record
using a slower playback speed. Once the solo was mastered, you were supposed to play
along with the record and learn the soloist’s inflections. That was great advice.
At that point I had been listening to a lot of jazz, and I had determined that the antique
style of violinists like Grapelli and Venuti wasn’t the kind of jazz that appealed to me. I
was more interested in what Miles and Trane were playing (that’s Miles Davis and John
Coletrane). It was the late 1960’s when all this was taking place, and at that time, there
wasn’t a lot of printed jazz pedagogy available. So, I began learning solos off records,
and when I came to a passage I found particularly interesting or exciting, I’d learn it in all
twelve keys and really try to make it my own. Many of those early learned passages are
locked into the language of my playing today.

What Dr. Baker said about vibrato was absolutely true. The players I was listening to did
not use much vibrato. For a while in my early development, I must have sounded like a
tenor-sax-wanna-be. But I’m certain that’s what I needed to be doing at the time. In
retrospect, I can see that during that period that I tried to sound like a wind instrument I
was actually in a critical stage in my development. It was during that time that I fine
tuned my jazz voice and found my own personal bag of tricks with regard to making a
jazz sound. With the exception of Ponty, there weren’t any jazz violinists to copy. Ponty
had successfully absorbed and assimilated the jazz vocabulary. He wasn’t using a
European vibrato, and his jazz line was harmonically appropriate and well crafted. As far
as modern jazz, Ponty was the only game in town. The other contemporary violinists I
was aware of were either lacking in concept (didn’t bother working out a jazz sound), or
they had unbearably poor technique on the instrument (sorry, but that includes Ornette
Coleman), or they weren’t playing jazz even though people were identifying them as jazz
players ( blues players like Sugarcane Harris and Papa John Creach). That’s not to say
that they weren’t creating beautiful art, but we’re talking jazz here.

You obviously won’t get very far in playing jazz if you don’t listen to it. Exposure to
others jazz approach will help supply the computer in your brain with the variables you’ll
need to grow your own. I remember seeing a black and white photo of Charlie Parker
performing on a dingy little stage somewhere. And in the front row of the audience in a
sailor’s uniform, you can see a young John Coltrane sitting absolutely spellbound.
Expending the effort to find the jazz language you want to work out, and then
transcribing and learning it, is a time honored practice for which there are no shortcuts.
The whole process from start to finish turns you into a a jazz improviser. The aesthetic
choices you exercise as a listener, the musicianship you grow by transcribing others
ideas, and the know how acquired by mastering and applying what you’ve transcribed are
the fundamental three keystones of jazz schooling.

Nowadays, a lot of jazz literature is available. Transcribed solos by all the great
improvisers are piled high at your local Guitar Center and Sam Ash superstore. There are
awesome jazz methods by Jerry Bergonzi, Mike Steinel, Jaime Aebersold, and Dr. David
Baker….just to name a few. All of these items will help you on your quest to improvise.
But sooner of later, you’ll be faced with the solitary task of figuring out who you are as
an improviser. When you get to that point, the “ditch-digging” work of transcribing and
studying great solos will be your greatest asset, and set you apart from those that took the
shortcut.

Harry Scorzo
June 9th, 2006