Lord of the Strings

Bassist extraordinaire Marcus Miller talks to students about call-and-response improvisation, as well as his early years, at the Berklee Performance Center.

  Press: to inquire about photo availability and usage, please
e-mail us.
 
  Marcus Miller, at his Berklee Performance Center clinic
  Photo by Nick Balkin
   
Rich Appleman, chair of the Berklee Bass Department, wasn't afraid to be reverent. He was introducing Marcus Miller, after all.

"You're going to hear a sound innovator," Appleman said, "someone who changes the sound, the way an instrument is perceived, and its concept. . . . He's also a great person, and I'm so glad he plays the electric bass."

And Miller's much-anticipated clinic did not disappoint, as he cooly and thoughtfully presented a wide range of material largely focused on improvisation.

The clinic began with "Run for Cover," a Miller-penned anthem originally written for alto saxophonist David Sanborn, which quickly set the tone for the rest of the clinic. Associate professor of guitar David Fiuczynski's solo, for example, began as a response to the song's melody, perhaps hinting at Miller's presentation of call-and-response as a central component of improvisation as well as arrangement and composition. Rounding out the band were students Alex Han (alto saxophone) and Kevin Camp (drums).

On the topic of soloing, Miller stressed the importance of phrasing and playing lyrical ideas. Miles Davis had told him, "Either play the questions or play the answers, but don't talk to yourself." With assistance from the band, Miller then demonstrated trading, a form of call-and-response, as a means to develop as an improviser. A requirement that Miller imposed on the band was to avoid using preplanned responses. "If I ask you what time it is, you can't answer, 'The bus leaves at 1:30.' That's not what I asked."

The call-and-response concept is also applicable in a compositional context. Specifically when developing a groove within an ensemble setting, Miller explained that it's often best to dedicate specific sections of a phrase to specific instruments. He mentioned the interplay between the rhythm section and the horns in James Brown's music, and he also talked about the tradition in African American Christianity of call-and-response between the minister and the congregation. Miller then demonstrated call-and-response with student bassist David "DJ" Ginyard; though their instruments occupied the same sonic space, they each traded the groove back and forth. The result was a cohesive sound that allowed each to be heard.

To be more effective at responding, and by extension to further develop as an improviser, Miller spoke about the need to be able to hear more deeply externally as well as internally. Miller suggested singing as a way to connect one's ears and hands to the improvisation. "Perfect pitch is cute, but relative pitch is crucial. . . . When you hear anything, you need to be able to know almost immediately how it relates and where it fits on your instrument. . . . Perfect pitch can actually be a liability. If you're playing with a saxophonist who's sharp, you'll be uncomfortable for the whole show."

Miller was asked how he came to develop his strong sense of rhythm and his technical mastery of the bass. He touched on his early training: he studied clarinet in school and bass on the mean streets of New York. The electric bass was still a relatively new instrument, and it wasn't until his senior year in high school that he was able to join his high school's jazz ensemble as a bassist.

His bass education followed two parallel paths. He cited "funky bass players" as his early influences—Larry Graham (Sly and the Family Stone, and Graham Central Station), James Jamerson (longtime house bassist for Motown records), Rocco Prestia (Tower of Power), as well as Jaco Pastorious and Stanley Clarke. The musicians he was playing with noticed his talent and encouraged him to explore the jazz tradition as a means to become a more complete musician. He then discovered that his father's cousin, pianist Wynton Kelly, had played on several classic Miles Davis albums. This personal connection helped strengthen his love of and commitment to jazz. Later, recordings such as Herbie Hancock's Head Hunters, which combined jazz and funk, led him to begin developing his unique voice.

 
  Marcus Miller talks to students during a rehearsal in a Berklee classroom.
  Photo by Phil Farnsworth
   

Although the electric bass played an increasingly prominent role during the '70s, groove and soulfulness were considered far more important than speed and technique. In the Harlem nightclubs, soul was also a matter of self-preservation. "If you wanted to play something cool, you had to make sure that it was doubly funky. Because if you employed some cool techniques and it wasn't soulful, you were going to have to answer to somebody after the gig. And I'm talking like, you know, getting your butt kicked, and sometimes knives were involved. It was pretty hardcore."

Miller's sense of time and rhythm was further developed while employed on recording sessions during '80s, a decade that featured increasing use of drum machines. He found that his time had to become "better than perfect" to hold up to the scrutiny that is a part of being a studio musician. It was a requirement to play very steady time and also to be able to play precisely behind or ahead of the beat in order to make the stiff drum machine patterns of the day feel more human.

Questions also touched on more personal aspects of Miller's life, including fatherhood, which Miller said keeps him humble. "It's actually the best thing that can happen to you because it allows me to not believe the hype. On the road I'll sometimes meet people who've named their children after me. When that happens enough times you start to think that you're somebody special. . . . then you get home and you have to fix the leak in the roof."

Asked if he had any parting advice for a musician just getting started, Miller said, "Find any opportunity you can to play . . . because you never know where the crack in the wall is going to be. . . . You never know where you're going to run into that one person that says 'I need a bass player.'"

Few musicians are able to achieve and sustain greatness: Dizzy Gillespie, Miles Davis, J.S. Bach, Mozart. Count among them Marcus Miller. Miller modestly claims to have been fortunate to be involved in a lot of different situations: producer, musician, bandleader, composer. But it's clear that he has been able to attain a high level of quality in all of these roles, and for a very long period of time. For Miller, though, success isn't just about staying power.

"I'm a musician. I love playing and to continue to have opportunities. To me that's the most important part of success."

Bassist Pedro Verdugo is a web developer for Berklee.edu.




[ Print-friendly Version ]