The use of samples by hip-hop producers is part of a much longer tradition that goes back to the roots of jazz.
A lot has been made of the fact that a large portion of early hip-hop was based on “taking” pre-existing songs and recordings, created decades before, and presenting them in a new, different light. This process was known as sampling, named for the sampler, which could literally record chunks of time as digital audio and allow users to manipulate it at will via keyboards or drum pads.
The best examples of these machines, which included the Akai MPC60 and Ensoniq ASR-10, allowed users to change the pitch, reverse, chop into pieces, sequence, alter dynamics, and much more. Aside from the technology that made all this possible, the intended usage, as defined by the designers, was not all that different to earlier instruments like the Mellotron. However, what hip-hop producers did with sampling technology and all those extra parameters, was wholly different.
Depending on who one asks, the age of sampling confirmed that hip-hop’s early producers were either truly lazy or geniuses. The lazy part is the most obvious and unimaginative take—they didn’t create the music they sampled, and in many cases, didn’t credit the original composer. The genius part requires a little more open-mindedness and understanding of what was actually occurring, both from a musical and cultural perspective.
Some have argued that, aside from playing traditional instruments at a very high level, there was actually very little difference between what hip-hop producers did and what jazz musicians had been doing for many decades before. Just like hip-hop producers, jazz musicians took existing music, created for one purpose, and manipulated it, transforming it into their vehicle, for another.
In the beginning, this transformation was mostly stylistic/rhythmic, leaving the original song clearly discernible to the listener. But by the time we get to John Coltrane, we were observing jazz musicians who improvised over earlier songs by other composers, which had been transformed to the point of being unrecognizable, even to the most sophisticated of ears. Take, for example, Coltrane’s “Fifth House” (1961), which was actually based on “What Is This Thing Called Love,” a well-known Cole Porter composition written for the 1929 musical Wake Up and Dream.
In the case of hip-hop, the goal was to create interesting vehicles for emcees to rap over. One of the earliest examples was “Rapper’s Delight” (1979), where the Sugarhill Gang literally looped an entire instrumental section of Chic’s “Good Times” (1979), transforming it into the perfect vehicle for 14 minutes and 37 seconds of nonstop rapping. Later on, hip-hop producers such as J Dilla contorted the samples used in their productions to the point where, even to this day, fans still argue over exactly where they came from. The most creative hip-hop producers have drawn from far and disparate sources to find the samples they use in their productions.“Hip-hop producers such as J Dilla contorted the samples used in their productions to the point where, even to this day, fans still argue over exactly where they came from.”
In my opinion, it cannot be refuted that both jazz and hip-hop musicians mastered this process by constantly pushing the envelope. All the while, they constantly used pre-existing art and transformed it to serve a completely different purpose, in aid of a completely different artistic statement. Theirs was a process of re-contextualization and this was central to both musics. Neither jazz nor hip-hop musicians were interested in simply “covering” popular songs, which audiences at the time already loved, in the way that a wedding band might. To go further, many of their transformations were so extreme that it would’ve probably just been easier for them to create completely new compositions. Many of them certainly possessed the ability to do so. So, why did they sample? I would argue that recontextualizing is not unique to literature, jazz, or even hip-hop. It is a fundamental technique employed by artists within many disciplines, and most likely has been for millennia.
The saying “There is nothing new under the sun” is apt. In reality, the actual nature of music is such that everything is based on something earlier. There are precious few artists who have actually created anything which could be considered completely new, and this is even more so the case post the establishment of the modern music industry. How many songs use exactly the same progression, or melody, or arrangements, or drum patterns, or bass lines? This is before we even consider lyrical content! There’s a reason why plagiarism within music is confined to a very narrow set of circumstances. Covering, reinterpreting, or recontextualizing earlier music is what most musicians have done for the vast majority of history.
Like jazz before it, hip-hop provided new leases on life for many long-forgotten songs. That also came with the additional benefit of more profit for publishers, but ironically, in the end, it was publishing that killed sampling. It just became too expensive, with some publishers asking so much for sample clearances that there was nothing left for anybody else. At first, producers tried to “recreate” samples with slight changes to get around this, but a few lawsuits later, it became clear that using samples was over.
A Philly jam session with the Roots crew helped bring performing musicians into the fold.
Hip-hop officially turned 50 this year. And since its entire history is a book’s worth, I’ll just talk about what hip-hop did for live music, based on my own experience.
Though not many people know it nowadays, some of the finest and most important moments in hip-hop history actually occurred in Philadelphia during the turn of this century, at a jam session called the Black Lily. I was there, so take my word for it: None of us realized how important this would become in the future, or what it would do to transform live hip-hop. Photo by Mika Väisänen
When it comes to music and culture—and certainly Black American music and culture—it’s exceedingly difficult/near impossible to say when a particular sound “began.” New sounds and genres emerge organically over time; there is always something that came before, which transforms into the next thing. The idea that one person started this or that sound is usually inaccurate. Still, the Black Lily began in the late ’90s when the Roots, up-and-comers at the time and under the guidance of their manager, Richard Nichols, decided to begin a movement. What they started actually had as much to do with the Sun Ra model, as it did with anything hip-hop related.
The Black Lily was built upon a long tradition of Philly jam sessions. But the thing that made it different from the outset was that it was actually made for and run by women artists. Tracey Moore and Mercedes Martinez, collectively known as the Jazzyfatnastees, grew sick and tired of having to fight to get on stage at jam sessions, so they pitched the idea to Rich to create their own.
This live hip-hop jam session began in Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson’s basement. At the time, nobody could afford to rent a venue, and the basement gave us a chance to see what this could be. Within a week or two, the event had grown so rapidly that Ahmir and his neighbors were complaining about how many people were attending, and the event moved to the Five Spot, a two-story nightclub in the Old City neighborhood.
At this time, live hip-hop was not common, or something that emcees even wanted to be involved in. Producers like DJ Premier were sampling classics by artists such as Nina Simone, Miles Davis, John Coltrane, and Thelonoius Monk, and this eventually paved the way for the crazy idea to have a live drummer playing behind an emcee instead of a DJ.
At the same time, hip-hop production had changed out of necessity, so it was now almost impossible to hear which songs a particular producer sampled to create a track. However, this still didn’t prevent publishers from trying to take everything on the few occasions where they figured it out. As a result, producers began to use less samples and more live musicians, who could sound like samples, which brought bands like the Roots, the Fugees, and the Black Eyed Peas (the first incarnation) into the light. All of this laid a foundation for live-music events like the Black Lily to come into existence.
The Black Lily soon became one of the main weekly scene-building events in Philly, and musicians on all kinds of instruments started playing to hip-hop audiences, with an authentic hip-hop sensibility. Every Tuesday beginning at 9 p.m. for around eight years, this event redefined the idea of a hip-hop show. Picture an audience of 250 hip-hop heads watching emcees and vocalists trade on stage with live drums, bass, guitar, Fender Rhodes, a tuba, maybe a vibraphone—all in the pocket, sounding like something that J Dilla just whipped up. If that wasn’t enough, Jill Scott, Common, or Amy Winehouse might also jump up. There was never a dull moment, and none of what took place was planned. People just got on stage and did their thing. And this would often happen while the Roots were on the other side of the world spreading the gospel of live hip-hop by dominating some stage in Paris.
Eventually, having 10 to 15 audience members flying in from Paris, Tokyo, or Rome on a Tuesday just to experience this event became the norm. More than 40 artists, who later went on to sign major record deals, were first discovered at the Black Lily. Lots of musicians, who are now musical directors for the biggest names out here, got their start at the Black Lily. Most importantly, entire approaches to playing hip-hop with a live band were refined there.
Like jazz, hip-hop is actually a massive universe, covering everything from Black dance to literature. There were so many regions and people involved over the years, but for me, the Black Lily was a special and transformative period within the history of hip-hop that everybody should learn about.
Guitarists can learn a lot by dissecting the art of articulation.
Advanced
Advanced
• Develop a more fluid jazz time-feel by using hammer-ons and pull-offs.
• Create flowing, legato-based lines.
• Understand how to navigate tricky harmonic passages.
John Coltrane was a titan of jazz saxophone and an improvisor of unparalleled genius. Every jazz musician since has had to confront his instrumental prowess and musical legacy. In this lesson, we'll relate elements of his improvisational material to the guitar. His note choices are frequently addressed and much of his music is available in transcriptions, but authentic phrasing is not often attempted by guitarists. After all, jazz isn't just about what you say, it's how you say it.
Before we dig into the nuts and bolts of this lesson, let's listen to few essential Coltrane tracks to get our ears right. First, we have his classic tour-de-force, "Giant Steps." For decades this has been the pinnacle of how to play over fast-moving changes.
John Coltrane - Giant Steps (2020 Remaster) [Official Audio]
On the complete opposite side of the harmonic spectrum is "Impressions," which is a contrafact based on Miles Davis' "So What." Here's a live performance of the two-chord tune with his classic quartet.
John Coltrane Quartet - Impressions.
One of the most crucial aspects of Coltrane's articulation is the slurring of upbeat notes to downbeat notes. For guitarists, this means that we pick notes on the "ands" and hammer on, pull-off, or slide to notes on the downbeats. Pro: This gives the music an undeniable jazz feel and convincing phrasing. Con: Fingerings can be challenging and unorthodox.
Let's begin with Ex. 1, a I-VIm–IIm–V7 line in Bb, like we'd hear in "Rhythm" changes. This particular lick has typical bebop-type chromatic approach tones. As luck would have it, this lick fits well on the guitar, so it's a good introduction to Coltrane's articulation technique.
Coltrane for Guitar Ex. 1
Here's another line in Bb (Ex. 2), this one necessitates moving around the neck a bit more to make the articulations work. Again, we hear bebop language, but the superimposed Gb triad (Gb–Bb–Db) on top of the F7 chord is a Coltrane-esque development.
Coltrane for Guitar Ex. 2
Diminished licks are often discussed in Coltrane studies, so it's good to have a few patterns under your fingers. The obvious place to use such lines is over 13b9 chords. The fingering in Ex. 3 isn't the easiest way to play these notes, but it allows for the most authentic phrasing.
Coltrane for Guitar Ex. 3
You can't enter Coltrane's world without mastery of all sorts of chordal and scalar fundamentals. He practiced obsessively and had tremendous technique. Ex. 4 is in G minor takes a motive and moves it diatonically down the G Dorian mode (G–A–Bb–C–D–E–F). This implies the harmony of a series of diatonic chords. Try hybrid picking here. The fingering stays on the top three strings for a consistent approach and highlights that pattern-based thinking.
Coltrane for Guitar Ex. 4
One of Coltrane's notable developments was his harmonically adventurous series of substitutions that have become known as "Coltrane" changes. You hear this harmonic gauntlet on tunes such as "Countdown," "Giant Steps," and a few other standards that Coltrane would reharmonize. The tempos are fast, and the changes are relentless. Ex. 5 covers three somewhat distant key centers: B, Eb, and G in a matter of a few measures.
Coltrane used a combination of bebop language and purely diatonic patterns to navigate these progressions. We hear use of the infamous 1–2–3–5 patterns on many chords as well as simple triadic lines. This is the first example where it's impractical to adapt Coltrane's articulation to the guitar consistently.
Coltrane for Guitar Ex. 5
Ex. 6 is another lick you can use in a "Giant Steps" setting. Again, we do the best we can at capturing the Coltrane spirit without going totally crazy trying get every slur.
Coltrane for Guitar Ex. 6
Coltrane's modal playing is legendarily epic. He went on extended explorations the likes of which were never heard before in jazz or Western music. Ex. 7 has a Dorian flavor, but Coltrane is not one to be strictly limited to the mode, so notice the use of b7 and natural 7 (C and C#) in this lick.
Coltrane for Guitar Ex. 7
Ex. 8 is representative of Coltrane's development of gestural ideas—in this case a rising arpeggio-like idea that begins on an upbeat. Listen to his early '60s live work, where his solos could last ten minutes or more.
Coltrane for Guitar Ex. 8
Here's a particularly stretchy idea (Ex. 9), but if you keep your fretting-hand thumb low on the neck, it will allow your hand to "open-up" to the extended reach that's required. The ending is interesting because it has a hint of bebop approach tones in an otherwise modal setting.
Coltrane for Guitar Ex. 9
If you listen carefully to Coltrane's improvisations on a C minor blues, you'll hear that he doesn't treat the tonic chord modally, i.e., as a minor 7 chord—at least not exclusively. Instead, he thinks of it as a more tonal sound: Cm, Cm6, or Cm6/9. That accounts for his many melodic minor-based ideas in "Mr. P.C." for example. (As is typical in jazz, melodic minor is used in its ascending form, often called the "jazz minor.") To achieve a consistent articulation and match his phrasing, we can employ a rather guitaristic move down the neck here (Ex. 10).
Coltrane for Guitar Ex. 10
Sometimes Coltrane will use grand, sweeping gestures that are all legato (Ex. 11). On guitar, we do what we can—hammer-ons and three-note-per string ideas work well to emulate his licks, as in this excerpt from a C minor blues.
Coltrane for Guitar Ex. 11
Of course, this is hardly a complete overview of Coltrane's contributions to the language of jazz improvisation. Above all, deep listening is a required step in the process. Once you get the sound of Coltrane's articulations in your ear it will be much easier to get that sound out of your hands.