I wasn't surprised to learn that Gigi Gryce (short for George General Gryce), the saxophonist and bandleader who wrote the pocket-sized jazz standard masterpiece called "Minority", studied classical composition (at the Boston Conservatory during the forties), because it is a perfect example of the small compositional form known as "sentence structure". In it, a melodic idea is played, then repeated in a contrasting key and then "liquidated", which according to Arnold Schoenberg's Fundamentals of Musical Composition, consists of "gradually eliminating characteristic features, until only uncharacteristic ones remain, which have little in common with the basic motive". Here's a version, performed by an all-star lineup, in which the form is clearly audible: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EDR2c6k9ixk&feature=related. The theme is played twice at the beginning, the first starting at 0:14, and the second at 0:29. (By the way, you'll hear sentence structure in a great many of Mozart's works, as well, if you listen for it.)

Glenn Gould was also a fan of the iconoclastic free-jazz pianist Cecil Taylor (along with Arnold Schoenberg, as I mentioned yesterday). In fact, Gould was enamored by his music to such a degree that I keep coming back to Taylor's recordings to try to identify what it was that Gould liked so much. I do enjoy them, don't get me wrong, but they don't stay on my CD player for as long as, say, a McCoy Tyner album might. But I'm also left with the feeling that the deficiency is mine, not Taylor's, and that I still have some catching up to do in regards to hearing him properly.

I was fortunate enough to see Taylor at the Montreal Jazz Festival a few years back, and remember that a large segment of the audience didn't share my sentiment: A good quarter of the crowd walked out during the first tune. I don't know if this kind of reaction bothers Taylor or not (my guess is that it doesn't), but I do know that it hasn't stopped his pursuit of his very specific form of musical expression. He's been playing this way for over sixty years now, and whatever one thinks of the music, that fact alone commands respect: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cP5L8tjnB6w&feature=related

A question: Would bebop, the chromatic and scientific approach to playing jazz that involves the memorization of specific, complex vocabulary patterns, have occurred to its early progenitors without the atonal (i.e. twelve-tone) music of Arnold Schoenberg? Conceptually, there is a very large amount of overlap between the two styles. Both involve the dictated use of notes in a specific order - through the use of tone rows in twelve-tone composition, and in bebop through the use of lines or licks committed to memory in every conceivable key. In both cases what is left for the artist to freely choose is placement, primarily. The twelve-tone composer can use the next tone as part of a melody (in other words horizontally) or harmonically, or as part of a chord (i.e. vertically). Of course, the rhythms are up to the writer as well. In jazz, the notes are also very largely (if not entirely) predetermined, and the same kinds of choices (placement and rhythm) are left to the performer.

Schoenberg's music has taken a lot of critical poundings over the years, and it continues to do so. It's not to everyone's taste, I think it's fair to say, but Glenn Gould was a great admirer (and interpreter) of Schoenberg's, and so my guess is that we'll eventually catch up with it. But I am convinced that Charlie Parker et al were greatly influenced by it as a concept, and I'm not sure that their discoveries would have happened without Schoenberg's. Here's one of his early twelve-tone works, with the score included: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xrjg3jzP2uI. And here's Bill Evans' "Twelve Tone Tune", a tip of the cap from a jazz musician of unsurpassed learning: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dB78xeZ8quk.