That Feel
It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that feel
There’s a Tom Waits song called That Feel, written by Tom, with Keith Richards. Keith sings on the recording, and their singing together can only be described as a lurching, drunken hobo choir. Which is deceptive, because Waits was recently sober at the time, and has remained so since. But that’s the feel of the song, unbridled honesty is the theme of it and of this post.
I was scrolling through YouTube videos this morning and chanced on Django Reinhart, along with Stephane Grappelli and The Hot Club of Paris band. For some reason, it’s perfect music to hear when you’re shut-in on a rainy day. It’s sure got that swing, and the combined, seemingly effortless virtuosity of Django and Stephane is a miracle for the ear to behold.
But the thing is, you could pull fifty guitar and violin students out of Berklee College of Music, give them transcribed sheets of the recorded solos, (composed/improvised by Reinhart and Grappelli) and they could play exactly the same notes. And it wouldn’t be anywhere near the same.
In my twenties, I heard a recording of Tchaikovsky’s violin concerto - he only wrote one - by Jascha Heifetz, playing with the Chicago Symphony. I was blown away by it. I didn’t know much about Heifetz, just that he was a big name. The way he played the piece was astounding. Technically - but it also had this organic aspect to it, a fluidity that was to me in stark contrast to the rigidity of classical music. I heard echos of Jimi Hendrix in Heifetz’ attack and time choices that went outside the signature, playing with sliding, slightly extended notes, in between the jaw dropping violin virtuosity that Tchaikovsky wrote into the manuscript.
So I decided I wanted to hear more violinists play this incredible piece and bought a few CD’s of other orchestral versions. And son of a bitch, I was disappointed by all of them. They were like Stevie Ray doing Hendrix, decent enough, playing most of the same notes, but light years away. Flat cartoons beside the four-dimensional Heifetz.
What’s the difference? Oh, Heifetz was a genius. Hendrix was a genius. But why? Guitarists these days can play Hendrix tunes exactly, but they always miss the mark, fall short by that same amount of light years in distance. Simulacra. Once removed, a copy, unoriginal.
The difference, my young padawan, between the real and the reflection, is feel. You can’t convey feel unless you have it yourself first. And having that feel, then being able to convey it, is the very unique human thing we call genius. It doesn’t come out of endless woodshedding, knowing every technique, being able to replicate previous masters. That’s a component of it, but not the main thing. The main thing is the feel, and the only place you can find its origination is within the human heart.
Yes, I was floored by Prince shredding While My Guitar Gently Weeps at the George Harrison tribute. He was a bit after my time, so it was admittedly catch up. Both Mozart and Beethoven emulated Hayden before becoming more individuated.
Helps to be first/best in two ways. Where did THAT come from (talent+timing+soul)?, followed by imitators. But sometimes the routine gets disrupted down the line. Bob Dylan became an icon but there were people following in his footsteps who made their own mark, like John Prine, et al.