Roboplaying
An old post from November 10, 2013 which I unpublished for some reason. Decided to repost it.
When we think rhythm, we tend to think of beats and pulses and metronomes and foot tapping.
But those are just ways to define a beat.
They’re not rhythm in themselves.
Rhythm is much more than just keeping time, rhythm expresses the character of a piece.
For example, what distinguishes one style of music from another? Say, jazz from flamenco?
It’s in their rhythms.
Every style of music has its peculiar rhythmic characteristics and its these characteristics that give it life and define it.
You hear Joe Pass and you know straightaway that you’re listening to jazz.
Or you hear Paco de Lucia and you know straightaway that you’re listening to flamenco.
There’s no mistaking the two.
(True, there’re other things that distinguishes one style from another, tonal characteristics, for example, but that’s another discussion altogether.)
Rhythm also defines a player.
What makes one player’s playing exciting and full of life and energy while another’s may seem lifeless and bland?
It’s in their rhythms.
One’s playing may be full of rhythmic inflections and swing while another may be mechanical and follow the beat rigidly.
When I first started to play jazz, I bought all the jazz books I could find and memorized all the licks in them but somehow I could never get that jazz feel.
It didn’t sound like jazz at all.
It took me a year of complete immersion in the hallways and ensemble rooms of Berklee before I could feel the swing and play it convincingly.
The same thing with Bach.
When I first started to record my Bach CD, I thought, great, I would just roll the tape and I would have the CD done in two sessions.
Big mistake.
After listening back to those first few sessions, I had to go back on the drawing board and relearn how to play Bach all over again.
And the same thing with Chopin.
In each of these ventures, I learned I had to get into the spirit of the style, to experience their inner energy, the tensions and resolutions within their rhythms, feel the nuances and their infinite variations before I was able to ‘speak’ it convincingly in my playing.
Yes, in a way, it’s much like learning to speak a language.
You have to understand all the inflections and nuances and the rhythms of a language before you can speak it convincingly, like a native.
If you’ve ever called up one of those phone helplines, you’ve probably had to listen to those automated messages giving you those endless options.
What’s the one thing that strikes you about all these robomessages?
Flat, lifeless, monotonous voice.
And that’s what happens if you don’t express the rhythmic character of a piece.
Flat, lifeless, and mechanical playing.
Sure, a listener will still hear all the notes and they may even feel a strong rhythm in your playing, but it will be as exciting and uplifting an experience as listening to an automated phone message.