The Longest Suicide In History

Here is a short story I wrote about Bill Evan's and Scott LaFaro's relationship. The story is based on actual events. I arranged them in a way that made more of an artistic impact. Without further ado, I implore you to read my little story. 

THE LONGEST SUICIDE IN HISTORY

In 1959, Bill Evans started to play with Scott LaFaro. Bill had previously been playing as a sideman with Miles Davis, but he met Scott, who wanted to start a trio. Scott suggested to Bill that they become a trio with Paul Motian. Bill wanted to be in a group, but he wanted to find people that would like each other. He wanted their talents to merge in a natural way. He agreed to play with them. They later became The Bill Evans Trio.

On Sunday, the 25^th of June 1961, the trio went to record a live album at the Village Vanguard. Bill and Scott played like they had become known to play. Bill spun lines in the clouds on his piano, and Scott made the Earth below. Scott made the heavens, and Bill colored them. Together, they painted lush worlds of sound. What they did together was greater than just Bill’s piano and Scott’s bass; together, they created a whole world that neither Scott nor Bill were a full half of.

Bill never had to look at Scott. Bill could arch his body over the keys to where his face was inches from his hands. Bill was free to go wherever he wanted, and Scott would be there with him. They could be lost with each other, and everything would be okay because they knew where each other were. Scott always knew where Bill was. Scott could drape himself over his bass without seeing anything but his hands and the strings, and only trough tonal inflection, Scott knew exactly where Bill was.

Their music was like a conversation had between two poets. Their melodic lines were both lyrical, but together, the lines made more than just what they played. Their lines together were like doves flying in perfect tandem—flying close, but never crashing.

Bill would write new pieces, but Scott seemed to already have known them. The second Bill could think of something, Scott already knew it. It was almost like being in love. They could communicate without words; they were free together to speak their own language. Bill had found those special people whose talents could naturally merge.

***

Ten days later, on the 6^th of July 1961, Scott LaFaro was on his way to his parent’s house in Geneva, New York by car. The road was wet, and the tires had met their limits. The car skidded into a tree. Scott died instantly.

Bill heard first from Scott’s parents. He called Paul at four in the morning and said, “Scott’s dead.”

“Yeah,” Paul said in a deep groggy voice.

“Scott’s died, Paul! How can ‘yeah’ be the only thing you have to say? I’ll never hear him again. It’ll never be the same! And you can only say ‘yeah’?” he said as his voice cracked and squealed. His vocal chords could not match his emotion.

The line lay silent. Bill hung up. He stayed up for the rest of that night in his pajamas and robe. He paced around his apartment alone. He paced until the sun rose. He cried until the sun rose. He thought about the last time he saw Scott until the sun rose.

Then the phone rang. He picked up shakily and collapsed onto his bed. He could barely hold the weight of the phone with his once dexterous hands. He answered, “hello”, as his voice shook from crying.

            “Hey! It’s Paul. You’re never going to believe the dream I had last night. I dreamed that you called me and said Scott died. Can you believe that? Anyways, are we going to get together today?”

            “Scott did die, Paul. It was a car accident. It was last night. He hit a tree,” he said slowly scrapping words together out of grief.

            “Scott?”

            “Yes.” He wanted to say more, but he could not muster any more.

            “I’ll be right over. Will you stay there until I get there?”

            “Yes.” Whether Bill wanted or not, he would be there. He physically could not do anything.

            “I’ll be there soon.”

            The line went dead and Bill fell over. His head lay on the pillow, but his legs were still on the ground. He was lying, but he would not sleep. He laid there for what could have been years. Bill could not feel the time pass anymore. He just laid catatonically still and thought about what Scott could play and how he would never hear it again. Then, Paul was there. Bill walked to the door as fast as his aching body could. He opened the door and Paul hugged him. Bill stood like a plank. Paul had a record in his hand.

            “I thought we could listen to some old times,” Paul said.

            “Okay.” Whether he wanted to or not, there was nothing he could do. He did not have the strength to disagree. 

            Paul opened the record player and put in the Portrait in Jazz album the trio had recorded a year earlier. “Witchcraft” started playing. The trio’s rendition was up-tempo. Bill played the melody. He played it with tall chords that made the piano sound like a full orchestra. He used an entire pallet of colors that made the melody more than a mere sequence of notes. The way he manipulated the attack and sustain of every moment made the melody unique to the trio. And instead of only supporting, Scott and Paul played the melody as much as Bill did, but in their own way. Bill’s lines would dovetail into Scott’s, which would continue on to Paul’s. Bill would invent a motif and Scott and Paul would be with playing with his theme. Bill would go on musical excursions and Scott and Paul would be there with him. They all played in a way that made the entire recording more than just the sum of their individual parts.

            “Listen to that bass,” Bill said as he stared into the spinning record.

            “I know. He was a good kid. You know, I couldn’t believe it when you told me. I thought it was a dream. I never expected it,” Paul said as he looked at the side of Bill’s head.

            “Listen to that bass. It’s so big. It’s like an organ. It’s not real. I’ll never hear that again. I’ll never hear that…” he said as his head drooped down and hunched over into tears.

            Paul grabbed Bill’s shoulders, which were still faced to the record player, and faced Bill towards him. “Bill, it’s okay. I know it’s bad now, but we can’t change it. We had some good times. We played well together. I’m sure there will be other bass players.”

            As his eyes were closed and tears streamed down his face he said, “It won’t be the same. It’ll never be the same. How am I going to find someone like that, Paul? Who could replace him?”

            “There, there. I know it’s hard, but it’s okay. Some things just happen. You can’t be miserable about it forever. You’ll get past this. You’ll move on.”

            “Okay,” he said between spastic respirations. “I’ll try.”

            Hours passed. They listened to the record over and over. Then, Paul stopped the record and Bill sat at the piano. Paul sat on the chair facing him. Bill hunched over the keys and began to play “I Loves You, Porgy”. He played it at a slow and malleable pace. He played it will his tall chords and long luxurious lines, but his lines had nowhere to dovetail. He invented motifs, but nobody was playing them with him. He would go to musical places, but nobody was along side him. It was only he.

            After he would play his solo, he would play the melody again and go into more solo. He would play it endlessly in a recursive cycle. Paul sat and watched him play the same song for hours.

            “I think I’m going to go home and get some sleep.”

            Bill nodded while playing.

            “I hope you feel better. You should sleep.”

            “Okay,” he said as he continued to play.

            “I’ll call you tomorrow. Goodbye.”

            “Thank you, Paul. Bye,” he said still playing.

            Bill continued to play “I Loves You, Porgy” to nobody. It was the only thing that made him feel any better. 

***

            Shortly after Scott died, Bill became addicted to heroin and cocaine, as most jazz artists eventually do. As the years went on, his cocaine consumption rose. As the years went on, he stopped taking his medication. As the years went on, he lost his will to live.

Bill Evans continued to play with various trios. He eventually found another bass player and another drummer. He would play the same songs, but they never felt quite the same. There was not the same sense of communication with anybody. He played and became increasingly unsatisfied. Music, itself, was not the same.

            Bill would still play “I Loves You, Porgy”, but no one would join him. He would always play that one alone.

            On the 15^th of September 1980, Bill Evans went to the hospital for severe stomach pains. His organs had met their limits. He died for hours.

            His death was a combination of several physical ailments caused by decades of drug abuse. Each day after Scott died, so did Bill in small amounts. Over nineteen years, Bill died slowly from what he did to himself. 

REFLECTION ON THIS PIECE:

            What must Bill Evans have said after he heard that Scott LaFaro died? He must have wondered whether or not he would ever find another bass player—another telepathic communication that he had with him. He must have been devastated. He was. He didn’t record for weeks. He must not have played for days. I want to capture the relationship between that. I want to capture that one half of something died. Moreover, I want to do that between two men to show that music is also love. It’s not just between a man and woman and it’s not sexual. Music is love.

            Historically, I was making the point that Bill Evans, playing and psyche, was never fully the same after Scott LaFaro died. In fact, in each part of this piece, I made a point to listed to recordings from the time period I was writing. In the part of the story when Scott was alive, I listened to recordings that Bill Evans played with Scott; mainly, I listened to Sunday at the Village Vanguard. That was the album that Scott recorded ten days before he died. In fact, the first description of their playing is entirely based on that album.

            In the part after Scott’s death, I listened to “I Loves You, Porgy” as obsessively as Bill Evans played it after Scott died. I tried to capture what he was feeling when he played. The part immediately after Scott’s death, I listened to that to understand Bill’s emotions.

            When Paul and Bill were listening to “Witchcraft”, I listened to that song, but from a different perspective. I tried to remove myself and listen to it longingly—like I would never hear that bass again. I tried to see what Bill thought looking back on that album.

            Also, the story is in three parts purposefully. Individually, each part could be taken separately, but I feel that there is a deeper meaning when the stories are put together. The connection-of-dots, so-to-speak, shows the deeper meaning and, therefore, the bottom of the fish.

            Thematically, I feel that there is the theme of happiness and its extreme converse. The first section is happiness. The second section is the decline into the converse.

For Aleeka

For those of you who don't keep a tab of this blog open and refresh it every two seconds like I do, there was a comment inquiring about my favorite "ii-V-I" song.

In short, there are just too many to pick. SOOOOOOOOOO many songs use a "ii-V-I" cadence, or some kind of substitution there of, that it's almost a question of what my all-time favorite song is. That being said, I will give you a list of songs that do it best because what kind of loser would I be if I didn't?

First up, "All the Things You Are" composed by Jerome Kern with lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II. It's a beautiful little standard written for the musical Very Warm for May (1939). Just about every jazz-man and jazz-woman you can think of has recorded this song. I would go on to say that, based on the common knowledge of the chord progression, it's almost like a blues; any musician worth their salt will know this song. Anywhozit, this song has so many "ii-V" progressions in it, it'll make your head spin.

This is a very cool version of it. There may be other versions, but this one blows the roof off in respects to coolness.


Next, "These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You)" with music by Jack Strachey and words by Eric Maschwitz. This one follows the "vi-ii-V-I" pattern. This one is very popular as well. Everyone from Bryan Ferry to Thelonious Monk has recorded it.

Here is Bryan Ferry's version:


And here is Thelonious Monk's version (I like to call him Melodious Thunk, but that's just a little side note):


Now, for the second part of you question pertaining to tonality and key. I can tell you that "All the Things You Are" is pretty much always done in Ab (A flat. When will the "flat" symbol become a permanent fixture on keyboards?!). I haven't had to play it in any other keys, but I'm sure it has been done. It's a blast to play it in any key! Any chord tone you hit will sound amazing because of the way the chords change. It's a very nice song to solo over.

"These Foolish Things" is done in a variety of keys. I've seen it in C, G, and F sometimes. I do it in C because I like to sing along with it, and that is in a nice part of my range. A lot of instrumentalists do it in Eb (where is that damn "flat" symbol!!). I personally can't sing it in Eb very well. It's just too high in some parts. When I play with people that are reading it, I do it in Eb because that's how they're reading it.

Well Aleeka, I hope this answered your question! Let me know if you have any other musical query or if I didn't fully answer your first one!

Sorry, Marc!

I realize I've been negligent to my numerous fans, namely Marc, and for that, I apologize.

For those of you that don't read my comments from previous blogs or are just tuning in for the first time,  Marc asked about figured bass symbols. When analyzing classical music, mostly Bach chorales and soprano, alto, tenor, and bass (SATB) style arrangements, one uses figured bass symbols to denote inverted chords.
A few examples for y'all:
I, I 6/4, IV 6, V7, and so on.

At first, these numbers may seem a bit arbitrary. However, they do have a specific meaning, and those numbers are there for a reason.

Let's say you're analyzing a piece in C major. You have the triad of a tonic (I) chord (C, E, and G), but there's a problem, the E is the note that the bass sounds. You say you'll just put a I for the analyzation and move on to something more important in your life; the rent isn't going to pay itself, and you don't want to end up like those people in that musical.

You can't just leave that I there and think you're doing it right. You have to make note of that inversion! Yes, you've just stumbled upon an inversion. Inversions are fancy things composers use in music to make pieces sound more interesting. This particular chord is in first inversion. The way we describe a first inversion chord in figured bass is I 6.

We use the I because it still is a I chord no matter the inversion (then again, in jazz theory, people will sometimes add alterations to chords that are secretly inverted. For example, a chord that's spelled E-G-C could also be called an Em(#5). However, the Em(#5) would be spelled E-G-B#. My point is, if you saw it only on a keyboard, you could call it either way. You would just have to justify your answer like so. It's really more of a choice that composers encounter from time to time.) Holy digression, Batman! I don't even remember what I was saying. Oh, that's right! Inversions! Anyway, you're probably wondering from where the "6" came in the above example. The "6" comes from the fact that, in first inversion, there is a note sounding that is, the interval, a 6th above the bass. A quick note: remember people, bass does not equal root.

It makes sense if you think about it. The chord E-G-C has the interval of a minor sixth. The space between E and C is a sixth, thus we put a cute little arabic numeral (that's a fancy term for "everyday numbers") 6.

Wait wait wait, you're saying! There is also the interval of a third in that chord! To that I will say one simple thing; it's implied. You don't need to write it because it's expected.

That's not too hard. The point at which people run into trouble is when you have the inversions of a V7 chord, or really any 7 chord.

Lets say you're analyzing another piece in C major, and you run across a chord spelled G-B-D-F. That's a V chord, and you know it, but hold on there's an F with a G major triad? What the h-e-double hockey sticks? How do I let everybody know that F is there?

You use another figured bass convention. Well, really it's the same. Since there is an unusual note there you have to describe it somehow. What's that interval between G and F an octave above? If you said minor 7th, you're right. If you said anything else, stop reading. No please don't! I'm sorry, baby. Please com back! I'll never do it again.

Anyways, you would signify that 7th by putting a V7 for your analyzation. These inversions get a little hairy because they're a little harder to visualize. Because of that, I have found a chart that says everything I just did in much fewer words.

P.S. I noticed I had a sort of secret admirer that commented on my last post as well, and I would just like to take a moment to thank him. I mean it really is the fans that make this thing possible. Without all of your love and support, I don't know how I would get this all done. And, if this Travis guy wants to get together sometime, I'm more than open to it. I mean we can talk music theory, or I don't know. I mean I felt like we really had something. You know what I'm talking about! Please come back!

Well, good night and good luck everybody. I hope I helped all two of you that read my blog!

Did I say "tomorrow" in that last post?

I really meant "in a while".

I just thought I'd put up a composition that I find very amusing.

It's called Inflatable You and it's by a comedian named Tim Minchin. I first heard him on the Graham Norton Show whilst watching BBC america. Now I hear he's moved on to Conan. Normally, I don't go for the singing comedian, but I think this guy is pretty amazing. I haven't a clue what he's saying, but he used a tritone substitution, and anyone who does that has an "A" in my book. 

I love the Jazz feel he gets. In fact, I think the title of this song is actually a play off that old jazz standard Embraceable You. Then again, that could be total crap. I haven't had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Minchin. With eye liner like that, he has to be cool. 

First of all, I'd like to draw attention to the chord progression he uses. It's a I-vii-ii-V-ii-V-I type of feel. In reality, he's playing a V/ii as the second chord, and I'd be willing to bet that most of those chords have the 7th and maybe a 9th or two (get it? The 9 is the two, just as a compound interval! I could be a comedian too; screw you, mom. I do have what it takes). 

Anywhozitmabobadiddle, the thing that gives it that jazz feel, besides the swung eighth note, is the ii-V-I. Later, he goes into this walking bass thing that is nothing but tasteful in this song about an inflatable love doll. His bass line is very nice, by the way. I would like to note that it's pretty interesting that he has to play a minor 2nd to assert the idea that it's a wrong note he's hitting; there are no wrong notes in jazz. 

Another way he jazzes this piece up is with the "B" section. The "B" section changes keys rapidly. I like to determine how crazy people are by what key they modulate to in comparison to the original key. In this case, he's certifiable. He's in Eb Major in the beginning, and he goes into E for a bit! By the end of that section, he's almost completely there. That is pretty crazy if I do say so myself. It's like tritone substitution, but with keys!!

As a closing, he quotes the Beatles very classily. In fact that song is just a I-ii chord progression, but Timmy changes it. He makes it jazzy; he does a ii-V-I. Then after that, he ends with tritone substitution. 

This guy is my hero. 

By the way, if you want to know more, let me know. I think my e-mail is on this page, and if it's not, you're probably my mom because she's the only one that reads this. If that's the case, I'm in the other room crying about how awry my life has gone and how I have to write a blog for money. 

My First Blog

As a more momentous occasion than my first steps, I now post my first blog onto the inter webs. I'm not yet sure what this blog will be or become, but I'm hoping people will like it. I'm not sure how "in" Music Theory is, but by gosh, it's what I know. I'd just like someone to listen whilst I ramble about things I find interesting. Tomorrow, I'm planning on putting up my analyzation of a piece of music. You guys will see; it'll be awesome.

That brings me to my next point, if you guys have any suggestions or requests, let me know. Send me a message! I'd be happy to help you with any and all music theory needs you guys may have.

As for now, it's late and I must finish my compositions. I leave you all with one request, nay plea, stay classy, and have a drink for me. You deserve it.