Don't like jazz? I think I understand. For many, jazz seems hyper-intellectual and inaccessible and, to be fair, it too often is. At its best, however, jazz represents the heart of the creative instinct; it began by taking popular songs and changing their harmony and melodies.

This "variations on a theme" is nothing new. What jazz added was a unique, improvisational approach that discarded existing rules of interpretation, transforming familiar tunes into something new and different. Let's take a familiar, non-jazz, song and observe how jazz transforms it.

"Both Sides Now" (1969) is Joni Mitchell's biggest hit and one of my favorites.



The harmonies are simple and the lovely melody is accessible to most singers. The introspective lyrics are poignant and beautiful. "Both Sides Now" inspired many cover versions, including this one from Glen Campbell, who flavored it with his trademark, orchestral "Rhinestone Cowboy" sound.



Campbell changed the key, substituted a jaunty fingerpicked guitar for Mitchell's strummed chords, and slightly accelerated the tempo. The Rhinestone Cowboy also added "saccharine strings" to the mix, as much a part of recorded music in 1970 as Auto-Tune is today.

Despite Campbell's changes, we still recognize the song as the same one Joni Mitchell recorded a year prior. It sounds like Glen Campbell, to be sure, but we know he is covering Joni Mitchell's song because the harmony and melody are the same.

But what if someone changed the harmony and melody? And what if there was no singer, or even a band? What if "Both Sides Now" was performed by a jazz artist who used the song as inspiration for an extended musical improvisation? Would it be the same song?

Let us now listen to jazz pianist Fred Hersch perform "Both Sides Now."



Hersch begins by introducing the key (D Major) in languid phrases before he plays the melody (:40) (here, the audience shares a collective moment of recognition. This is an example of live music's sublime joys).

At 1:14, Hersch inserts a "jazz" (diminished) chord where we expect to hear a major chord, signaling his intention to begin a digression; he begins an extended improvisation at 1:55. Hersch (mostly) plays the song's original chord progression, but creates new melodies in the moment, occasionally inserting shards of the original melody.

At 3:38, Hersch does a very "jazzy" thing when he changes keys (modulates) from D Major to D flat Major. Melodic and harmonic improvisation continues in this new musical color until 5:00, when he returns to D Major.

In the final 1:42, Hersch finds the trail home from his meanderings and concludes in the gentle, familiar rain of Joni Mitchell's timeless melody.

If you have followed me this far and remain immune to jazz's charm I will, dear reader, concede the point. You gave me the 6:42 I requested to no avail. I wish you well.

If you need me, I will be among my jazz-loving brethren in clubs, concert halls, and record stores. You will find us listening, reading, and writing about jazz's endless explorations of musical expression.

Comments