As a musician, I find that when people talk about me--whether in private or even on the bandstand addressing an audience--the thing they mention invariably, and almost always first, is my unique sound. When I was a youth, my sound separated me from other kids in a good way--it was the driving force that got me noticed, won auditions, and gave me the chance to play in both jazz bands and symphony orchestras. In college, my professors generally were excited to work with me, but considered my sound controversial, and always tried to make me more conventional, to fit a mainstreamed type of idea. As a professional, I've always developed my tone along the lines I felt it needed to be expressively, even resorting to vintage instruments long out of production to achieve my voice.
This approach, while not exactly mainstream, has paid off, in that these days I think most musicians who know and hear me understand why I've made the decisions I have...and the reaction of people who are moved to tell me how my sound has effected them is deeply gratifying. So I figure my first real post here should be about that thing most associated with me: my sound.
I've always taken sound itself to be the soul of playing. Your distinct sound is your calling card, your identity. But that sound is always in motion, in context. Many players suffer under the concept of an 'ideal' sound, as though an instrument's sound could exist in a vacuum--and this is true whether you are a jazz musician or a classical musician (or any other kind of musician). I've known tenor sax players who wrecked themselves trying to sound like Trane, and classical clarinetists who did the same with whatever great player they admired. Exacerbating this can be a culture of teaching 'proper' sound on an instrument, which while in some circumstances can be justified, is not necessarily the healthiest way to look at things.
The truth is that sound, like a human being, is constantly relational, and also like human beings, no two sound exactly alike--unless we're talking about a very low level of artistry. So instead of searching for an 'ideal' sound, I like to encourage people to become sound collectors--to give the magpie or mockingbird instinct some freedom. Instead of enjoying only a few artists close to your ideal, find the beauty and soul in players you wouldn't ever play like yourself. [post continues below photo...]
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| detail of Reform Boehm Clarinets c1951 by Fritz Wurlitzer |
For a brief time in my career, I was employed as an artist representative and coach for Wurlitzer Clarinets America. My job was to demonstrate and teach the wide variety of tones a clarinetist could achieve on Wurlitzer Reform-Boehms. At the time, there was a dominant myth (in America at least) that German clarinets only yielded one sound...so to counteract that I would show off my mockingbird skills by playing like Johnny Dodds, Benny Goodman, Pete Fountain, Sidney Bechet, or Edmond Hall on a Wurlitzer. Of course I'd never sound exactly like those great players, who are each inimitable--but similar enough to demonstrate the range of colors one could get. It was also fantastic training--in those years I developed a palette of sound from gruff and dirty to smooth and clear. That period of my playing career was one of the most thrilling because it was like real field work, collecting and making discoveries every day. Since then, I've tried to encourage others who were frustrated with their sounds to do the same. Instead of always refining, refining, refining towards some 'ideal' concept that never arrives, but tightens a noose around your playing, open up--experiment with anything and everything. Become a collector of odd sounds, and a virtuoso mockingbird. All of those will eventually feed your own art, when you decide to direct those things towards a singular expression.
Beyond that, always remember the search for a personal, expressive, artistically satisfying sound is a lifetime's journey, and is actually related to how we view other people, how we interact, whether we become dismissive and prideful about what we do, or whether we're looking to share something beyond the notes or our technical proficiency. The ultimate goal: to let our souls sing. Bless you on your journey.
-Eric
