more scrittles

I woke up this morning to do some personal writing - normal tortured stuff - and selected a Miles record from '65, live at the Plugged Nickel. It starts with "If I Were a Bell", a goofy tune from, like, Guys and Dolls or something, never exactly a favorite though fun to play with a vocalist. I slipped on headphones and was just about to type my first letter when the trumpet kicked in, and I never did strike a key. It was just so interesting, there was no room in my head for other thoughts. Miles' solo, which really starts with the head, isn't so much a complete melodic statement of any kind as it is a continuous sort of conversation with the rhythm section. He lays out for five seconds, then blurts out three uncertain notes; another pause, then he repeats the same, this time slurring them all together. He doesn't outline the changes in the least, and neither does Herbie; Ron Carter alone gives us some reminder of the tune underneath it all. It's such a different kind of jazz...the changes are more of a backdrop than anything, giving the soloist the chance to fool around with transitions, as the mood strikes.

I read a quote attributed to Miles once; "Never resolve anything". Practicing solo, it's challenging to leave space and not feel like I always have to hit the 3 and 7 at each change. At this point I can play choruses on a straight-ahead tune pretty easily, just hitting the key chord notes and throwing in little runs in between. That's getting old; it doesn't feel like I'm creating much melody, and I know it can't sound like much. Thus far I've been finding it excellent practice to pick out random tunes, play chords and melody simultaneously, then solo for a few rounds before returning to the head, trying to sound like an ensemble. However, I think I'll start recording backing changes that sound full on their own, and work with soloing over that, to try to focus on the melody and not worry about suggesting the chords unless I want to be especially emphatic.