Here’s a link to part 5.

Quick recap: When it comes to playing solo piano, I’m always wrestling with physical issues, aesthetical issues with audiences and subsequently, issues getting gigs.

The following sums up many of the aesthetical issues; Peter Hum received this message from an Ottawa Jazz fan (I’ll call him Joe):

“Should I go to Paradiso Saturday evening?  Do you think Chris will play anything different? As good as his solo work is, I've heard it enough - his CD, last gig at Paradiso, and the JazzWorks fundraiser. I await your guidance.”

Peter asked for a response from me and I wrote:

“Listeners may be interested and find enjoyment in every facet of music-making. This could include process, evolution, creation and re-creation. I can’t change their interests; all I can do is share mine.”

For some people, there isn’t enough variety in solo piano performances (no matter how good you are!). For others, spontaneity is the highest virtue, and there isn’t enough variety in written/prepared music (especially after the second or third listen!). When I started exploring solo piano, I predicted that I would encounter listeners like Joe. Of course, if I were exploring trio music, I’d encounter listeners like Bob. You can’t please everybody.

My experience has shown me that, there are more Joes than there are Bobs in the jazz community. Many clubs aren’t interested in solo piano. If they are, then they’re often only interested in one short set or an opening set. Before I released ‘Solo,’ I spoke to a record company who was interested in working with me, but only if I was releasing a trio record. They told me that solo piano records are more successful if they’re released by artists who already have a reputation for playing in ensembles. Apparently, that’s how it’s “usually done.”

Here are two good questions: Could a Joe ever become a Bob? Whose job is it to convert him?

In the meantime, my marketing plan is simple: Find the Bobs; ignore the Joes.

Stay tuned for Part 7!

Here’s a link to part 4.

Quick recap: When it comes to playing solo piano, I’m always wrestling with physical issues, aesthetical issues with audiences and subsequently, issues getting gigs.

Another physical issue is regarding multi-tasking, which I’ve written about here and here.

It’s physically impossible for humans to multitask. In this performance, Keith’s focus isn’t on his left-hand…at least not while he’s being creative in his right.



Brad Mehldau is another good example. Have a closer listen when you think his hands sound totally independent; one hand is on autopilot playing an ostinato, some arpeggio pattern or a rhythmic filer. What’s impressive is that the autopilot lasts for very short durations!



As I said in previous posts, playing written music and prepared music is my way of building a vocabulary for improvisation and often deals with hand independence and the issue of multi-tasking. Once I learned about this physical limitation, approaching solo piano was much less daunting.

Stay tuned for part 6!

Here’s a link to part 3.

Quick recap: When it comes to written music and improvised music, I try to make the best with both worlds.

The question I ask in “Which is More Impressive?” is a bit loaded. Both options are honourable undertakings that require serious discipline and have their own set of challenges. But besides building vocabulary, there’s another reason why performing written music is important to me.

Through studying written music, I’ve gained an appreciation and often strive for a perfect realization in a score. A perfect score means that every music-making material is in perfect synchronicity with one’s tastes. Personally, if I consider a score perfect, I wouldn’t dare waiver from the written music; it doesn’t require any amount of improvisation or embellishment; it’s perfect just the way it is! It just requires execution.

Side Note: Striving for a perfect realization has implications for composing too, but these posts will only deal with performing.

My experience as a solo pianist has shown that performing written music or heavily prepared music poses some problems. I’m always wrestling with physical issues, aesthetical issues with audiences and subsequently, issues getting gigs. I’d like to reflect on these in the next few posts.

Beginning with a physical issue:

Performance repertoire that’s written or heavily prepared requires maintenance. And harder music means more maintenance. Memory fades! Maintenance is unavoidable, but there are things you can do to minimize it. Here are my answers to Peter’s questions:

“I wish I could have my entire performance repertoire in my immediate repertoire, but memory fades and maintenance can be very time-consuming…It’s a balancing act. If I put more tunes in my immediate rep, then I won’t have as much time to learn new rep. If I spend more time on new rep, then I’ll have less time to spend on maintaining my immediate rep. I think I’ve found a balance that works for me.

Generally, I derive balance from my concert programming, which is always changing and evolving. I don’t maintain repertoire that I don’t intend to perform! I’d be very interested to know how maintenance differs from pianist to pianist. How long does it take them to bring repertoire back to a performance level after not playing it for a certain amount of time? What factors are involved? How did they find their balance?

Stay tuned for Part 5!

Here’s a link to part 2.

Quick recap: Sometimes acquiring solo piano vocabulary means reaching into a tradition that extends beyond jazz.

Jazz piano is only an extension of a much broader, 300+ year old keyboard tradition (an extension that could use more exploring, I might add!). There are many non-jazz composers and pianists who have contributed to a massive body of repertoire that explores every extremity of piano playing.

Is it necessary to check out the classical piano tradition to play meaningful music? No. Is it necessary to check out the classical piano tradition to understand and appreciate the piano to its fullest capacity? Yes! I should add that just as the jazz community listens for acknowledgement of the jazz tradition, the piano community listens for acknowledgement of the piano tradition.

For this reason, my practice schedule usually includes music from two pianists, one from the jazz community and one from the broader piano community. This is where traditions collide: jazz and classical, improvised and written music. Currently, it’s Bud Powell and George Gershwin. Previously, it has been Fred Hersch and Glenn Gould (J.S. Bach). Later this year, I think it will be Monk and Stravinsky. I check ‘em out until I can’t take ‘em anymore!

My view is that building vocabulary trumps all considerations regarding jazz vs. classical, or improvised vs. written music. If it moves me, I don’t hesitate to study it, learn it and maybe incorporate it into my performing repertoire. Of course, this requires an extra consideration, as I mentioned in my answers for Peter:

“I ask myself two things: 1) Does this composition move me? 2) Am I capable of sharing/re-creating this experience for my audiences? If the answer to both questions is “yes,” I’ll take steps to incorporate that composition into my performance rep.”

But it all gets incorporated into my vocabulary: Music vocab, piano vocab, improvisatory vocab or otherwise!

Stay tuned for Part 4!

Here’s a link to Part 1.

Quick recap: The jazz tradition is known for improvisation and spontaneity, but the tradition has also accepted certain degrees of prepared music; the community doesn’t always realize this!

Every improviser has, and is experimenting with his/her own balance between the two. Personally, I’m interested in how solo pianists keep this balance. I’m finding that compared to other instrumentalists they’re more often exploring and wrestling with the two extremities.

With all this in mind, I use these three solutions to answer the question I posed in the previous post (“What do I do with my left-hand!?”):

1. I give my left-hand something specific to play (prepared)
2. I give my left-hand something to play within a concept (prepared/improvised)
3. I just play (improvised)

In my responses to Peter’s questions I mentioned that improvisation is a creative act of regurgitating vocabulary. This means giving my left-hand something specific to play (like in Keith’s YouTube video) may be part of a grander process of acquiring vocabulary. If my goal is to eventually improvise with my left hand, I need to build a more extensive vocabulary so that I can either freely regurgitate within a particular concept, or feel comfortable regurgitating something ‘off-the-cuff.’

Side note: I wish more pianists would ask: “What do I do with my right-hand!?”

Let me clarify the word “vocabulary.” In this context, it seems to insinuate harmonic vocabulary, melodic vocabulary and rhythmic vocabulary, but I intend it to represent much more including phrasing, form, energy, touch, balance, shape, range, control, performance practices and every music-making variable that could apply to improvisation and performing. If pianists want to hold their own playing two sets of solo piano, I would encourage them to acquire vocabulary that includes all of these things.

Sometimes that means reaching into a tradition that extends beyond jazz.

Stay tuned for Part 3!

Back in November, Peter Hum sent me some questions on playing solo piano. My answers are here.

Performing solo piano has a number of challenges. Performing solo piano regularly means more challenges. I’d like to reflect on these in the next few posts, expand on my answers to Peter’s questions and pose a few of my own.

“What do I do with my left-hand!?”

It’s a common question that comes from pianists first getting acquainted with playing solo piano. A pianist’s answer will reveal much about his/her solo-piano concept and approach, and specifically, how he/she balances prepared music with improvised music.

Side note: I wish more pianists would ask this question when playing with a trio/ensemble!

In my opinion, the degree in which jazz pianists balance prepared music with improvised music is often miscalculated. This is particularity true with solo playing and to a lesser extent, trio playing. My transcriptions have shown that the balance often leans more toward prepared music than listeners may think. For example, take a look at my transcription of Bud Powell’s Parisian Thoroughfare; every A-section, head-in and head-out, is played virtually the same every time! What does this say about Powell’s concept and approach?

My interpretation is that we’re listening to something that’s a result of many hours of reading, studying, listening, transcribing, brainstorming, deconstructing, crafting, recording, practicing, practicing and practicing. Most excitingly: it’s also evolving! Most importantly, this performance is not completely ‘off-the-cuff.’ Powell had some things prepared and worked out.

Another example: Isn’t it ironic that YouTube’s most watched, solo-piano video by one of the world’s greatest improvisers is heavily prepared?



What is Keith’s left-hand doing? How do you think he worked that out?

There’s no magic formula, only practice.

Stay tuned for part 2!

I have posted the interview I did with CBC on Oct 17/09. I brought in the music and we discussed! Here was my contribution to the playlist:

C Jam Blues – Oscar Peterson
Loro – Egberto Gismonti
Eight Concert Etudes Op. 40 No. 1 Prelude – Nikolai Kapustin
Prelude & Che fai – Pucinni’s La Traviata
Peace Dance (Excerpt) – Doug Riley
Sister Kim (Excerpt) – Kirk Macdonald
Music for 18 Musicians (Excerpt) – Steve Reich
Let The Good Times Roll – Ray Charles

Sometimes the leader calls you with a gig, or sometimes you’re the leader and you call the sidemen. Either way, in an effort to entice, bargain and encourage, someone says that this gig is a great opportunity and will surely lead to more gigs.

If you’re using or hearing this tactic, be wary!

Leaders have to be relentless sellers; clients don’t fall out of the sky. At best, clients will ask you back for a second gig. That’s rare. Sometimes a client will recommend you to other clients. That’s extremely rare. Also, contacts made at that gig almost always fall through.

If you’re taking a gig because of a promise for more opportunities, you should be aware of the business plan (if one exists). If the plan is sketchy or if the leader isn’t the seller-type, think again whether it’s worth your while.

I had a brief moment of clarity the other day:

While practicing, I stopped for a moment and looked at my piano. For some reason, at that instant, I no longer saw a musical instrument; I saw a wooden box.

I didn’t recognize it; my emotions didn’t respond; the relationship disappeared.

I couldn’t appreciate its function. I didn’t know its function; I didn’t care to know.

Its 300+ year-old legacy was reduced to a blip in time. All the past masters whom it served are dust. The current masters will be dust but not before they make an impression. And future generations will be mastering a highly evolved, unrecognizable and radical instrument.

My piano is a museum piece. And even still, it won’t last forever; it won’t survive duration.

The best thing one can hope for is that it will make our duration better.

That’s why I play music.

A few months ago, I wrote about competitions (here and here). This prompted a reply from Australian pianist and friend Daniel Gassin (his post here).

Among other things, Daniel wrote that two of his fellow competitors, who weren’t selected as finalists, commented that they’d “rather be doing gigs and tours with leading musicians than winning competitions.” I can’t comment on which is more valuable to the individual, but they’re certainly not mutually exclusive.

Why wouldn’t you participate in competitions? I can think of three reasons:

1. You can’t afford travel and accommodation,
2. You don’t want to pass up a more fruitful opportunity
3. You’re aesthetically opposed to competitions.

Otherwise I would encourage you to apply for all competitions. Engage the community!

Let me be clear: a bio that states you won first place in a competition offers no more legitimacy than a bio that reads you’ve played with leading musicians. Ideally, the only thing that should give us legitimacy is our music, but that’s the paradoxical nature of the language and unfortunately, it’s the language the music community uses to judge us!

I try to react neutrally to flashy bios and resumes. I imagine that most artists are the same. Wouldn’t you want to hear if they’re good before booking them for a tour? However, reading that they’re won a competition or played with someone heavy will peak my interest; it’s hard to resist!

That being said, I guarantee that winning/participating in competitions won’t hurt you. It may hurt your ego, but so could playing with leading musicians!

The community will respond positively to both, so do them both!

Some writings that I’ve read and enjoyed over the last month or so:

Seth Godin: Who controls your media? (Link)
Hybrid Education 2.0 - Inside Higher Ed (Link)
Nobody Has A Million Twitter Followers - Anil Dash (Link)
Music to the (ringing) ears: New therapy targets tinnitus (Link)
How the Internet Changed Writing in the 2000s (Link)
The Technium: 1,000 True Fans (Link)
How the iPhone Could Reboot Education (Link)
Roots Music Canada: Taking a Free Culture Approach to Music (Link)

I received criticism on the dichotomy I set up in my post Balance and Elephant in the Room. I’d like to clarify:

I purposefully don’t preach jazz education vs. classical education. I preach read-execute and listen-execute; there’s a subtle difference.

My theory is that a good balance between read-execute, listen-execute and their variations will create better all-around and higher skilled musicians. As a music educator, I don’t care if teachers are training students in the Baroque tradition, as long as there’s balance between read-execute and listen-execute.

My job as a jazz educator is to find ways to establish and maintain this balance in jazz education’s infrastructure. And as it happens, jazz education more naturally offers a better balance than the alternative.

Classical education could train better all-around, higher-skilled artists, but it doesn’t ever focus its efforts on the tradition that would make that happen.

For my critics, keep in mind that listen-execute entails much more than learning Happy Birthday by ear and improvising a piano accompaniment. It’s certainly much more than having the skill to identify intervals, chord qualities and play back simple melodies. Listen-execute is about students playing, improvising and communicating in ensembles. It’s about conversing, reacting and responding musically.

Listen-execute is about the community.

That’s why jazz education is the future of music education.

At the beginning of every year, for the last three years, I’ve made a habit of writing down my yearly goals.

Writing down my goals makes them real; now I’m committed to achieving them! Because I’ve set an endpoint, it’s much easier to queue the tasks and put myself on a path of progress. This is why I write down yearly goals: they link the short term (tasks) with the long term (success). It also means they’re time-stamped and forces me to work on a deadline.

I divide my list between “work” and “personal”. “Work” is divided between “music” and “business”. “Music” goals include repertoire I want to learn, improv exercises I want to check out and albums I want to transcribe. “Business” goals include recording a new album, producing some video promo and blogging at least once every two days.

It’s important that my goals are specific. For example, I would never write: “Improve be-bop playing.” Instead, I would write: “Learn every Charlie Parker tune in every key.”

Also, my goals are always ambitious; they all require significant dedication. I’ve yet to complete every goal on my yearly lists.

But my goals are always realistic; I probably could complete all my goals, but I can’t always anticipate where my interests will lead me. Sometimes an unexpected project will transpire and shift my focus. If I don’t complete a goal, it’s probably because I was busy completing another unwritten goal.

Three or four times a year, I revisit my list of goals; sometimes I need a reminder!

My career has grown exponentially since I started writing down my goals.

Happy New Year!

I thought I’d start the year with posting my transcription of Bud Powell’s Parisian Thoroughfare (from ‘The Genius of Bud Powell’)

Hope you enjoy!