Serve the Music
One idea that I often come back to in my mind is the frequently-repeated phrase "Serve the Music." Conversations with other players often end on this phrase, as though it is inarguable and crystal clear. Driving home from a gig, we might talk about recordings we love with short, concise solos, a strong swing feel and not too much flash. It seems like certain musicians--Miles Davis, Bill Evans, Tony Bennett, the incredible Shirley Horn, Wynton Kelly--to name just a few, played with a level of understatement that drew out the melodic and harmonic beauty of a song as it was composed. They did not serve their own egos when they played, but rather they served the music. "Check out Wynton's solo on Four on Six," we might say. "He's just serving the music."
But I have been thinking about this notion lately in more complicated terms. Miles Davis was many things, but he was largely a stylist. He understood style and developed a minimalist approach that transfixes us as soon as we drop the needle on Kind of Blue. In many ways he is considered to be an exemplary musician in the "serve the music" tradition. But he was a ferocious, wildly flamboyant player at times, too. Check out his solos on "My Funny Valentine/Four and More": the minimalist, quiet, cool Miles is here replaced by Mr. Hyde with a trumpet (albeit a terrifically swinging Mr. Hyde!). His solos are arresting, loud, explosive and edgy. In those great concerts of 1964, he had moved far beyond merely serving the music.
And yet his solos do, undeniably, serve the music.
To serve the music as an improvising musician is to be alert to the mood in the room, the other players in the band, the drummer's pocket, the bassist's groove, the singer's heartbreak or joy. Music is, after all, one of the most tenable expressions of the grace, beauty and joy of the human (here meant as a philosophical category of subjects) as well as our expressive limitations. Therein lies the beauty of music.
This is what I strive to serve.