Soloing

Recently, while watching a master class by Mike Longo on the rhythmic nature of jazz, I encountered a concept that fundamentally changed my approach to soloing. Longo emphasizes the importance of beginning a solo with a positive opening statement and following it with a corroboration of that statement. This approach, he explained, creates a clear narrative, transforming solos into compelling stories that engage both the musician and the listener.

Demonstrating the Power of the Positive Statement

In the master class, Longo worked with a saxophone student, guiding him through two solos. In the first solo, before Longo’s guidance, the student played a flurry of notes that were musical but lacked form and direction. Then, Longo introduced his method: the positive statement followed by a corroboration, and he emphasized that this simple structure can lead to an unfolding story, transforming the entire solo.

After implementing Longo’s advice, the student played the second solo, which was remarkably different. His phrases were clearer, the rhythm more relaxed, and there was a sense of flow and unity throughout the performance. It wasn’t just a collection of notes anymore; it had become a narrative with a purpose.

Sharing the Experience

I decided to play both versions of the student’s solos for my wife, who is not a musician, to get her take. Without telling her which was which, I played both solos. Her reaction confirmed exactly what I had suspected. She told me, “I liked the second one much better; it was smoother, softer, more enjoyable, whereas the first one was ‘brassy.’” Her response was a testament to Longo’s teaching—his method of structuring solos with a positive opening and a corroboration resonated not just with musicians but with listeners of all kinds.

The Impact of Corroboration

After the positive opening statement, Longo’s emphasis on corroborating that idea is equally important. In the master class, I could see how this second phase—reinforcing and expanding upon the initial idea—allowed the saxophone student to establish a connection between the phrases he was playing. It wasn’t just about filling space or showing off technique; it was about giving the listener time to absorb the music and drawing them into the story.

Corroboration creates a deeper sense of cohesion in a solo. It transforms what could have been a series of fragmented ideas into a unified and evolving narrative. In jazz, this is essential. When we improvise, we’re not just playing for ourselves; we’re communicating with our audience, and they need to understand and connect with the music on an emotional level.

Form and Flow

Longo’s method of structuring solos isn’t just about playing the right notes in the right order. It’s about telling a story—a concept that resonates deeply with me as both a player and a teacher. Once you’ve established your opening statement and corroborated it, the solo has room to evolve naturally. This is where the music starts to flow, and the real improvisation happens.

What’s fascinating about this approach is how it taps into a deeper, almost spiritual connection with the music. Longo refers to natural law or even God as the source of this flow, suggesting that great improvisation comes when we allow the music to unfold naturally, without forcing it. The saxophone student’s transformation in the master class was a perfect example of this. His second solo wasn’t just smoother and more coherent—it felt organic, as if he was no longer playing the notes, but letting the music play through him.

This idea of flow is something I’ve experienced many times in my own playing. Some of my best solos happen when I’m not overthinking, but rather feeling the music and allowing it to take its natural course. It’s those moments when everything clicks, when the rhythm, the harmony, and the melody all come together effortlessly.