Dave Marks

It’s the first week of a new semester at the ICMP. All of the new degree students come flooding into my classes and I’m faced with the challenge of teaching Harmony & Theory to all instruments and Technique to the bassists.

It’s a funny combination of subjects. They seem to be polar opposites.

Harmony & Theory deals with the conceptual, the abstract. Ideas and terminology, how to correctly label all of the components that music is made up of.

Technique is hands on. It’s all about taking the abstract: this idea, that concept – those inspired thoughts that swim around in our heads, and instructing muscles, which, when used to activate our instrument, allow us to produce music.

Although they may seem irreconcilable, remember that they are opposite ends of the same process. Just as the wheels and the engine perform very different tasks, if one is missing, the car won’t move much. Ideally, the process itself should be effortless, wherein inspiration strikes and we hear a sound in our head. Our hands instantly convert this thought into movement and we produce notes on our instrument.

One, instantaneous, seamless, fluid process.

Lets look at what happens when only one part of the process works well and the other is weak.

1.

Love Machine? Probably not.

Being a master of ‘the theory of music’ but having little or no live playing experience is like being a young man who is a master of ‘the theory’ of lovemaking. It doesn’t matter how much research you do, how well you study up, how many questions you ask… chances are, when it comes to the practical exam, chances are it’s gonna be goofy, uncoordinated, (mercifully) brief and you’ll spend most of the next day wondering if it really happened, because it was so surreal, that in your memory, it has a dreamy, weird quality to it.

I’ve seen musicians who are booksmart. They are methodical, they practice well and study quite intensely. They have a masterplan and prepare things down to the last detail. Perhaps they are getting ready for an audition, a jam session with hot players, a gig that they are really hoping to get a shot at – a ‘big break’ playing experience that could help them move closer to their goals.

Slash = Cool.

But they haven’t done enough gigs, jammed enough – they haven’t put in enough hours playing with other musicians, with all of the unpredictability that this scenario brings. They need to smell the sweat of the jam session in the cramped room, where you play together for love and to explore music. But they are a bedroom warrior.

So, Mr. Bedroom warrior, the big day arrives.

You climb up on stage.

The guitar is a little out of tune. Your heart is beating loud and fast in your head. Your palms are sweaty. The amp you’re using sounds a bit weird. The drummer plays the groove a bit different from the one you’re used to on the record. You step up to the spotlight… and what happens?

This seems more likely

Chances are, it’s gonna be goofy, uncoordinated (mercifully) brief and you’ll spend most of the next day wondering if it really happened, because it was so surreal, that in your memory, it has a dreamy, weird quality to it.

Not good.

2.

Let’s look at the other side of the coin. So you’re a shredder. You have more chops than most people will ever need. If there’s one thing you have, it’s hands-on experience with your instrument. You are so adept at playing that each time your hands touch the neck, they seem to fly and glide over it. In fact, it’s hard to stop them. You aren’t really sure what you’re playing all of the time and being honest, there are some notes in there that don’t sound great but hell, they are fast!

Technique with no concept is soul-less and unfulfilling.

I’m sure you guys have cruised through YouTube spotting player after player who burns over a backing track, playing some of the craziest licks. Young players, from small towns. Amateurs who can burn like the pros. I’ve seen a bunch of guys play Marcus Miller tunes, Victor Wooten licks, Billy Sheehan solos. They can repeat them note for note.

Many hands make light work.

Ask them to play some of their own music or just improvise and they seem to dart around the neck, refusing to commit to anything for more than a few seconds.

No idea is developed, no melody repeated. Just notes. Lots and lots of notes.

These guys burn like crazy, but you’ve probably never heard their names before.

You wanna know why?

Because they aren’t famous anywhere other than on Youtube. They don’t play for or with anyone, because they have nothing of their own to say, and when they play in a band, they can’t stop (musically) talking shit. Hence, people don’t really want to play with them.

Metheny. Legend.

It is clarity of concept and purity of intention that marks out truly awesome musicians. They know where they are and why they are there. Pat Metheny has some ridiculous chops, but when he plays a ballad, he just plays the melody, pure and simple. He has played long enough, learned well enough and listened intently enough that his ability to play doesn’t determine what he should play in a given moment. The music does.

Here’s an idea that helped make this issue really clear for me:

Ideas are like bullets and technique is like a gun.

Stressed.

The bullets alone are of very little threat. Without a well-oiled, clean firing weapon, a bullet is simply a piece of metal. I suppose you could throw it at something, but it’s unlikely to have much impact.

Anthony Jackson once talked about the frustration one must feel, when a beautiful musical idea is unable to come to life because it is held back by nothing more than limited technique. Bullets with no gun.

A gun without bullets is similarly useless. All of the accuracy and marksmanship in the world is wasted on a weapon with no ammunition.

Technique on a musical instrument is the same as technique in any other task.

It is the means by which we facilitate our intention.

It is not the intention itself.

If I were to go so far as to state an ideal that I aspire toward and that I would hope others could aspire to, it is this:

I reach toward a fluidity and efficiency that I witness in great musicians. This is a process of physical technique,  mental agility and honest big-heartedness. When these elements are so well trained that they are not consciously present, we simply feel things and music comes out. We hear a sound and we respond to it – like old friends finishing each other’s jokes. We connect with other musicians quickly, easily and in an honest and genuine way and when we find others like us, magic happens.

The Long (and winding?) Road...

I don’t pretend to have figured out the perfect balance and I consider myself simply to be another guy walking a long road. I am ahead of some of you and others are ahead of me. I stay motivated as a player knowing that I am walking on the road. I am not wandering aimlessly through fields. I have direction and purpose.

I doubt I will ever arrive at any destination in this journey, but the road is such a nice walk and I share it with a lot of wonderful people.

d