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Pat and I got to hear clarinetist virtuoso Ken Peplowski recently. He played with the Dayton Philharmonic plus the sax section and drummer from the Air Force Band. It was billed as the Benny Goodman's Big Band Birthday concert. It was a blast. My foot tapped for two hours.
My favorite sound on the clarinet is the low, mellow ballad. Usually I don't care for the high-pitched sound of the clarinet. But watching this man play, and hearing the big band behind him, was a fascinating experience; and even the high-pitched sound brought pleasure to my hears. His fingers moved at incredible speed as he tickled that skinny reed instrument. I had the sense that he and the clarinet were one organism making music.
Peplowski actually played in the Benny Goodman band when it re-emerged in the 1980s. Mel Tormé said about him: "Since the advent of Benny Goodman, there have been too few clarinetists to fill the void that Goodman left. Ken Peplowski is most certainly one of those few. The man is magic."
Along with the art of Peplowski's playing, I enjoyed seeing and hearing the big band drummer up front and let loose. (We were only five rows from the stage.) The pounding percussion filled my body with exciting rhythmic joy. I'm thankful that God created humans with musical capabilities. Melody, harmony and rhythm combined in the right way can truly be a sacred experience.
In the concert notes Peplowski is quoted as saying, "Everything's a learning experience in jazz music – there's always an element of the unpredictable." I've often thought that there is a parallel between jazz and religion. Both have a basic framework within which to improvise. There is creativity and risk and adventure in the practice. Each player has their own 'voice' and style. But it is a communal experience. Playing with others gives the necessary 'communion' to make transcendent music.
Each time we gather to play/pray/worship it is unpredictable. God moves in mysterious and improvisational ways. The Holy Spirit is God's improviser. Christ is God's harmony. The Father is the key signature.
Maybe we Christians are too timid with our faith. Perhaps we should jazz it up more. Perhaps we need to loosen up and let it rip. We can't be afraid of making mistakes. In jazz, a mistake is an opportunity to create something new. It's a blip on the staff that turns into a grace note.
The wind that blows through the horn is the breath of God. The clash of the cymbal is the vibration of spiritual energy. The beat is the heart of God.
When Luther wrote Melanchthon and said, "Sin boldly," he was saying, Don't be afraid to improvise…Make music with God.
If, in our life of faith, all we are concerned about is playing the right notes at the right time, we will never be in tune with God's wild music. We have to take chances. The melody is there not just to play, but to play with. We have to break free and make something up. Newness is what God likes. He says at the end of Revelation, "Look, I make all things new." Taking a basic melody line and a basic chord progression and making something new out of it is the kind of creativity that our Creator likes to hear from us. To jazz up our faith is to create variations on the melody and to play alternative harmonies underneath. Good jazz musicians play in the Spirit. They let go of the right way and simply play on the Way.
Too much scrupulosity in religion makes the music boring.
Dear Lord, Great Composer, thank you for the magic of music and the particular delight of big band jazz.
