Now, in improvisation, the point (as I at the early stage in my career understand) is to build somewhere. To use tension and release in a melodic manner to build to a climax. I will get into it a little bit later about how to use these melodic devices and how that could be analogized towards wrestling, but, in general, "good" solos have a purpose and a point and build to a logical end. You could just play random notes in a solo. A G here, an A there, but would it sound good? No. It would just be meaningless notes. Well, on the same wavelength, in wrestling you cannot just do random moves with little purpose (see Taka v. Aguila from WrestleMania XIV) and expect the match to be good. The matches have a purpose and the wrestlers build to a climax using tension and release. Tension in wrestling is when the heel is doing well and it looks bad for the good guy. Release would be the spastic response to a face turnaround (i.e. Rocky doing a DDT to turn the tide of the match). If you build tension too much in soloing, it can get unrealistic to release all that tension in the allotted time or the release is not as good as the tension built, so sometimes it is best to move upwards with tension in a zig zag-type line: go up-release some-go up-release some more. That way you could get to a perfect amount of tension without it spilling over. In wrestling, if the tension gets too bad, it can get boring. A lot of people complain that each week Rocky gets put into handicap matches (that, frankly, do not seem like too much of a handicap). If the WWF never did anything to release this tension, it would level off at a point, because people would not take the handicap matches seriously (it is getting close there already). However, by having Rocky gain some small measures of revenge (release) and then raising the stakes of the future matches (for the shot at the PPV to win the belt and whatnot), the tension is built extremely well. It will hopefully climax at the PPV (this being written on Saturday, June 24th 2000).

Another way that I find Jazz and wrestling to be very similar is through the actual putting together of matches. In soloing, I see two ways that people at my beginner level solo: one a thoughtful, SIMPLE solo and the other a spastic race to see how many notes they can pump out. In the first case, the soloist might use several melodic techniques to do the building. One, is repetition with variation. By repeating a figure over and over again and then changing it slightly (perhaps jumping an octave on the I or inverting it), one can create a very simple, but effective solo device. It sounds beautiful to the human ear, because the slight change at the end is just what it wants. An absolutely great example of this in music (this being beyond jazz itself) is the Christmas Carol "Carol of the Bells." This song has extreme amounts of repetition and it all works like a charm. It is one of the greatest songs ever written and it saddens me to see it debased to cliché and called seasonal, because it really showcases some great melodic effects. The stupidity of American culture notwithstanding, this song repeats one figure repeatedly (well, that was redundant wasn't it!) with slight variation in the backgrounds and with an inversion of it. It masterfully raises the tension with each repeated figure, as I am sure you have all heard. In wrestling, this shows up many times too. It's called psychology. In the Ultimo Dragon v. Chris Jericho matches from the mid 90s, there is a good example of this. In the first match, Jericho uses his Lionsault maneuver and is successful with it. In the second match, however, as Jericho is flipping in mid-air, Ultimo stands and hits him flush in the abdomen with a perfectly placed drop kick. The repetition is in the repeat of the move and the slight variation is the intelligence (and impeccable timing) Ultimo showed in countering the move. Even within matches, this exists. An unfortunately not-so-good example took place in the Vader/Steve Williams v. Burning match-up from Excite Series '00. In two separate situations, both members of Burning (Akiyama and Kobashi) had Vader in the position for a German Suplex, but Vader ran to the ropes. At another point in the match, Vader kept hitting Akiyama with short art clothes. What would have been perfect for, on the third lariat attempt, Akiyama to (intelligently) duck under the repeated move and hit the previously-blocked German Suplex. I personally would have marked out for that and was expecting it to come. I say that this example is not-so-good, because they never actually did such a spot.

The more important part of soloing that I can see is simplicity also as it relates to use of notes. A song that is very popular and very easy to play among jazz artists is "Maiden Voyage" by Herbie Hancock. This utilizes, in the head of the solo, the repetition with variation theory I talked about in the previous paragraph, but it also is a very simple song. The pattern of the song is AABA (in that there is an A portion repeated, a dissimilar B portion, and then the A portion again at the end) and the different notes used is slim. In the A portion (I am reading this from a E Flat alto sax chart), the only notes are F Sharp, B, A, C, and D. In the B part, the only notes used are A, D, C, C Sharp, D Flat (I have no idea why they rewrote this as D Flat), E Flat, and B Flat. You can see that out of the possible 11 or so notes multiplied by the number of octaves on the sax (3 that I can get), they only used a small portion of them. This is a very simple chart and it works extremely well. It does not need flashy runs or anything like that to get its melodic point across. When I solo on this, I usually only use three or four notes (F Sharp, B, E, F Sharp Octave up). It is as simple as it is a classic song. In wrestling, the analogy also holds true. To have a classic match, you do not need crazy high flying moves (although I personally am not against them), huge bumps (although those can be cool), or ultra stiff strikes (although I LOVE though). One of my new favouritest matches in the whole widest of the worlds is Misawa v. Hase from All Japan's New Years Series '00. This match is basically Hase working

over the arm for 20 minutes. There are no big headdropping suplexes (although Hase does some cool non-headdropping ones at the end). There are no huge TD off the apron-like bumps in the match. Just the simple premise of Hase trying to neutralize Misawa's forearm and get him to tap with myriad innovative and fluid submission holds. It only has a few "notes" in the match and yet I personally with give this 4*1/2-5*. They build the tension using Hase slapping on the arm wringers out of nowhere on Misawa. Every move Misawa does, there is the fear (in him) that Hase will find a way to put on an arm breaker of some sort, so every move is interesting to see if Hase will fluidly put on a submission hold. They release tension by having Misawa fight out of the holds and do a move, only to raise the tension by having Hase put something right back on. The absolute simplicity of this match and of "Maiden Voyage" makes, IMO, for classic matches/tunes.

This next analogy is less concrete. It is kind of based in repetition with variation. The changes of solo music as they relate to the level of stiffness in a strike or move. Changes in soloing are a way to tell the soloist what kind of chords and notes that they percussionists are going to play. When they see a certain change (notated above the music), it gives them a certain bank (the scale) of notes from which to play. The thing is that several changes tell the musician the exact same bank of notes. G Majour (Ionian), D Dominant (Mixolydian), and A Minour (Dorian) all have one sharp (F). The difference is the emphasis on certain notes and where the half steps are. So, you can play a certain figure over all three changes and have it sound different. A good example of this is in the chart "Cantaloupe Island" also by Herbie Hancock. Its main lick is played over a D- and a Bb7 change. One of the things that teachers tell their students when teaching them to solo on this chart is to play a 4 bar figure twice at the start of the solo. Once for the 4-bar D- section and then again for the 4-bar Bb7 section. They repeat the exact lick over the different change and it sounds different, unusual, and, IMHO, cool as hell. Carol of the Bells also shows itself to follow this pattern. The repeated quarter note-two eighth notes-quarter note figure is played over myriad backgrounds throughout the song. Some sound cool and others sound awe-inspiring. Seriously, I cannot stop raving about that song, it is so good. It is a good example of a figure sounding different with different backgrounds (or changes). I really wish I had some sheet music of this song. Anyhoo, this is like stiffness, I think. Because you can play something over a dinky majour chord and it will not sound as cool as when you play it over a Lydian Dominant chord or something Melodic Minour like that. In wrestling, you can do a lariat and then you can do A LARIAT! By doing the LARIAT!!!!!! it just enhances the match and makes it more credible. Take Bradshaw's lariat and Chyna's lariat. When Chyna does her lariat, it does not seem very stiff (over the dinky majour chord) and the people do not sell it as well. When Bradshaw does his lariat, he absolutely destroys the other guy and it is sold accordingly. Usually in America, a move like the lariat is not a finishing move, but Bradshaw's stiffness (playing it over an Altered Chord) makes it one. Or even take Stan Hansen v. Kenta Kobashi from 1993. That was THE lariat. Hansen finishes Kobashi off with the greatest lariat ever, while Kenta is sitting on the top rope facing outwards. That lariat rises above the others, due to its great stiffness, just like a very cool lick will rise above depending on its placement in the chart.

Well, I have talked some on the good parts of soloing, let's look at the bad parts. The biggest bad part I see is when somebody just plays run after run after run. A run is a really, really, really fast series of notes. It could be analogized to a high flying maneuver or a big bump and, as such, they themselves are not bad per se. It is just that in a lot of cases, people try to play these and sacrifice meaning for speed. All they try to do is, more or less, show off their chops. Well, this problem arises in wrestling too. The Wall is a terrible perpetrator in Big Move-No Meaning matches. I remember a match between him and DFlair during The Sullivan Era that was ghastly. These are the moves that the Wall did: two scoop slams and a choke slam through two tables from the top rope to the outside. The Wall scoop slammed David on the mats outside and, while David over sold/writhed from this less-than-impressive maneuver, the Wall started setting up tables. The same thing happened in the WM2K ladder match, but it is written into the Dudleys character to put people through tables and that was WrestleMania, this is some chump Nitro that probably got about a 2.3 rating. Anyway, so eventually David gets back up only to be leveled by a massive scoop slam (sarcasm anyone?). Then, the Wall finishes with the tables and goes off to hurt Daffney some. While this is happening David Flair gets to his feet and runs to the top turnbuckle. I see no kayfabe reason to do this. He just ran right up to the turnbuckle that, lucky for The Wall, was right above the two tables. The Wall runs over, grabs DFlair, and walla they have their 3-second video clip. The move had no meaning, just like the Crowbar choke slam off the balcony, or the big three table spot in the Shane Douglas v. The Wall match. Of course, these big moves can be put into matches and have meaning and look great, just like runs can be placed well and sound awesome. It is just this a reliance on skill/shock value instead of brains that leads to bad solos and bad matches.

If wrestling were an art form, it would be trying to attain some subjectively great plateau. This plateau can be exemplified in Mitsuharu Misawa or Toshiaki Kawada. Neither of these men are particularly great physical specimens. Neither can do Star Dust Presses or ever go through three flaming tables, but they have churned out the greatest matches ever. How? Their stiffness is unmatched (repeating figures over cooler changes to get a better effect). Their matches have a point and their big high spots mean something. The Tiger Driver '91 in 6.3.94 means something, because it is the end-all and be-all to wrestling moves at that time and Misawa busts it out to win. He uses that move like once a year (if that) and to bring it out after 35 or so of the toughest minutes of his wrestling career (especially if you were to interview his ear after that match), it shows the desperate levels he is at to win. He has to dig deep into his move set to get THE move to finish the interminable Kawada off with. If he had just thrown it around 3 minutes into the match, it would have meant nothing and been like a youngster playing a ream of 64th notes up and down a scale as a solo. Instead, they placed those 64th notes in a manner that befitted a great solo and Misawa won. Their matches have a point (usually playing off of their earlier bouts) and build to a huge climax. They have very simple maneuvers (hell, all Kawada does is kick, powerbomb, forearm, suplex, rinse, repeat), but are done at the perfect time, with perfect timing, and are perfection, IMHO. That is why I like pro wrestling. Because it smacks so much of jazz to me, something that I try to better myself in. I will never be a pro wrestler (most probably, I am smaller than frigging Spike Dudley), but I could be a great jazz musician (uhh don't hold your breath though :-)). I hope this insanely long diatribe on pro wrestling and jazz helped somebody. Many somebody trying to get to sleep and that makes me feel better about myself.

Anyway, if you got any comments, concerns, complaints, or criticisms, or just wanna talk about how great Mitsuharu Misawa and the Oakland Athletics are, then please, by all means, email me at talboito@uclink4.berkeley.edu.