Episode 3: The Backbeat

What gets the toes a-tappin’?

When we talked about swing in the last episode, we talked about strings of individual notes. In classical music, the starting point for playing strings of notes is an even rhythm—equal notes get equal treatment. From there, a musician might subtly shift the pattern, allowing the melody to blossom or breathe in a beautiful way. The way a musician phrases a melody is key to her or his musicianship. Jazz musicians put a different rhythmic spin on melodies, which hearkens back to the music’s roots in African polyrhythms.

But there’s another element to “swing,” one that is more powerful and visceral than the subtle shaping of strings of notes.

You can hear it clearly by comparing “classical” Bach and “jazz” Bach, just as we did in the last episode.

Here again is the classical version of Bach’s “Wachtet Auf”:

Let the classical version literally “move” you, and you’ll likely find yourself moving your hand smoothly back and forth, swaying to the rhythm of the music. If you were listening to this in a concert hall, the way you instinctively move to the music might be very similar to the way the conductor gestures on the podium.

If you listen to the same melody—as arranged and performed by The Swingle Singers, and “move” to it—you’ll likely do something different. Instead of swaying to the beat, you’ll likely fall into a steady rhythm. You might tap your foot, or (if you put on your cool, “hepcat” persona), you might even snap your fingers:

Listen closely, and you’ll find that your toe-taps or finger-snaps fit a pattern: you are snapping on what musicians call the backbeat of the music. 

1-2-3-4--1-2-3-4.

 Your snaps or foot-taps are following the natural accents of the music, and those accents—on those precise beats—are one of the things that makes the music swing.

But it isn’t as simple as all that. Swing isn’t easy. Even though it feels loose and natural, it takes a talented and experienced musician—perhaps a group that has played together for a while—to give music that ineffable but precise quality.

Swing with “The Count.”

One of the “swinging-est” bands in jazz was led by pianist Count Basie, who fronted several different bands from 1935 to the early 1980s. Listen to Count Basie’s rhythm section playing “Easin’ It,” from 1962, and you’ll certainly find yourself “swinging”—snapping, clapping or tapping your foot—to the 2-4 “backbeat.”

It’s a natural reaction that doesn’t require much “thinking” or close listening, but pay closer attention to the music and you can hear why this music “swings” so well.

One of Count Basie’s signatures is the sound of the rhythm section—here, the piano, bass, guitar and drums. In this recording, the rhythm section starts the song by itself. Listen to the bass (Eddie Jones) and guitar (Freddie Green), and you’ll hear the swing. They each play just one note or chord per beat (1—2—3—4) in a steady pulse that sets the beat of the music. Listen closely. and you’ll hear how the musicians (especially the guitar) subtly accent beats two and four. Those subtle accents are an essential element of swing. Those musicians are “in the groove.” 

Jazz musicians don’t find that groove through calculation. They aren’t analyzing the melody lines to calculate the timing of notes. They don’t test the volume of each beat to be sure “2” and “4” are accented just right. Swing—or “A Groove”—is a “know-it-when-you-hear-it” sort of thing. It is, after all, one of the essential elements of a music that is rooted in an oral tradition. And that feeling—when musicians are clicking, swinging, in the groove—is unmistakable.

“Swing” comes in a lot of varieties, and it doesn’t always need a full rhythm section to create that pulse. Listen to Sonny Rollins’ recording of “Strode Rode.” (Log in to Spotify to hear the recording from the beginning.)

After the quartet plays the “head,” (the composed part of the song), the pianist (Tommy Flanagan) and drummer (Max Roach) stop playing, and Rollins launches into a solo with just the bassist (Doug Watkins) keeping the beat. The song swings hard even with just one saxophone doing the work.

“Swing” doesn’t require a rollicking tempo, either. Here’s the technically amazing pianist, Oscar Peterson, digging into a classic ballad, “Georgia On My Mind,” recorded in 1963 with bassist Ray Brown and drummer Ed Thigpen. Peterson varies the pace of his solo lines, exploding into cascading riffs and then playing the melody in a few simple notes. But the bass and drums stay steady behind him. Listen for the crisp hi-hat cymbal emphasizing the “2” and “4” of the beat:

Now that your toes are tapping, let’s look at the notes and harmonies that keep the beat pulsing along. Go on to the next module, “The Roadmap,” to get a glimpse of the musical structures of jazz.