Elemental Music Rap

 

With those of us who depend upon the faculty of imagination to do our daily work, we are mostly indebted to some quality of the Muse that dictates to us through dream—the night or day variety. Our qualification for such work begins simply by tuning ourselves to that channel and keeping the power button on 24/7. And paying attention to the voice when it speaks to us. If we’re distracted by any of the thousand channels competing for our attention, we’ll miss it. 

 

 But that’s just step one. Having received some creative impulse, now we need to set it down in whatever form is appropriate for our craft— writing the words of the poem or the notes of the tune or the gestures of the body, etc. Then comes the hard work of shaping it, extending the form, balancing all the parts. Followed by final edits— deciding what to leave out and when leaving it out makes the work more clear, more expressive. (Schoenberg’s fabulous quote: “The composer’s most important tool is an eraser.”)

 

Then there’s the work of getting it out to the public through performance or publication or recording, what have you. That’s a world unto itself.

 

This is on my mind because another step is to remember you’ve created something! It seems like a while ago, I rediscovered a little fun way to teach the basics of what Orff Schulwerk calls elemental composition in the form of a rap. Given my poor skills in the actual rap style simply because I haven’t paid enough dues in listening to that music, it might more accurately be called a spoken word rhythmic rhymed poem. But indulge me here with the terse “rap” that people are familiar with as a creative genre. 

I don’t remember where I found it on my laptop or why it appeared, but apparently put it in a folder called New Ideas. Since I composed it in 2011, it wasn’t actually a “new” idea, but somehow I never folded it into my workshop repertoire. And again, through what feels like a serendipitous moment, I re-found it again when I opened that folder today. 

 

Now since I had just done last week everything the rhyme talks about with my jazz class to introduce elemental composition and its eventual relationship with jazz, I felt I missed an opportunity! I still may do it with them as a review and I will certainly do it in my Level III class coming up. I like it!

 

Of course, it will mean nothing to the non-music teacher reader, but I include it here anywhere. If you do take the trouble to read it, read it out loud. And try the things it suggests!

 

Enjoy!

 

ELEMENTAL MUSIC RAP

© 2011 Doug Goodkin

We ain’t the Offshore Workers loadin’ boxes at the wharf,

Instead we’re learnin’ music, in the manner of Carl Orff.

The body comes before the head, the music’s not just mental

We do it first, then name each part in a style elemental. 

 

Now you start off with a rhyme, got to say it right on time

Then you start to play the beat, on your knees or in your feet.

“Pease porridge in the pot, Pease porridge cold,

Pease porridge in the pot, nine days old “

 

If you can rap it, you can clap it, playin’ each and every word.

You might think that it’s too simple, you might say that it’s absurd.

How can you make good music with just rhythm and the beat?

Try it out, clap the rhythm, put the beat into your feet.

(clap rhythm of Pease while stepping the beat)

 

Just the rhythm and the beat is soundin’ kind of sweet

But if you think it’s boring and nothin’ could be duller,

Look for a place to snap so you can add a little color.

“Pease porridge in the pot * Pease porridge cold *

Pease porridge in the pot, nine days old * “

 

“Rhythm, beat and color make the music” is our motto

But now add more into the mix, here comes the ostinato.

A pattern that you play that’s different from the rhythm

Better complimentary than when you play it with ‘em.

“Here comes   the ostinato, here comes     the ostinato” 

 

Now play the beat with mallets, both hands upon the floor

If you can keep it steady, you’re ready for one thing more.

Move them to the xylophone and play on C and G

Welcome to the drone, first step in harmony.

 

Next take the rhythm of the text and play on G and E

Without a lot of effort, why, you’ve made a melody!

 

You can add a splash of color, if that’s the way you feel

It works out rather nicely on the metal glockenspiel.

 

If you want to further mine the elemental riches

You can play an ostinato on many different pitches. (GG CAGE)

 

We’re making some fine music, which clearly is our mission.

Now we got ourselves an elemental composition. (ALL)

 

Now basses you keep going, go ahead and move a tone, 

To make up something that we call the single moving drone

It’s about as easy, as easy as can be

Just move that bottom note from the C up to the D (CGDGCG )

 

It’s sounding pretty good, but on another day

You can do the same thing and move the G up to the A (CGCACGA)

 

It’s really pretty simple, it’s not a lot of trouble

To make yourselves a moving drone that now we call double. (CGDA)

 

Now that little two-note melody can grow to more that’s sonic

You can use all five notes in the scale called pentatonic.

Remember there’s a home note, back to which you’ll go

You can call it C for now, but it’s better known as Do.

 

You’ve learned a lot of concepts, you’ve tried them on for size.

Now you show just what you know when you improvise.

Using all the tools and remembering all the rules,

You can make it all your own and make up something cool.  (Improvise)

 

Now we need some structure, we need some kind of form

There are many possibilities by the Rondo is the norm.

We’re playin’ some hot music, the room is getting’ warm

Time to bring some folks inside, get ready to perform.

 

Here comes the 1^st grade teacher, the visitor from Greece,

Here comes your Aunt Elizabeth to see her favorite niece

All come to hear us sing and play our very own piece.

In hopes that all will feel their happiness increase. 

 

So off we go with music that we made from this poem

And when the show is over, the audience goes home.

We’re feelin’ kind of empty now, a little sad within, 

But next week we can choose a rhyme and then begin again.

 

Some like it hot! Uh-huh! Some like it cold! Oh yeah!

Some like it in the pot, nine days old! (That’s all!)  

28

 

It’s June 28^th.  That number 28 holds a special resonance for me in so many ways:

 

• It’s my birthday number (July 28^th)

 

• It’s my wife’s birthday number (February 28^th)

 

• It’s the average of my daughters’ birthdays (Sept. 30^th and Nov. 26^th)

 

• It’s the day I returned to San Francisco from an extraordinary one-year trip around the world, turning 28 that July 28^th. 

 

• It’s the day my wife and I married after returning from that trip. (Oct. 28^th)

 

• It’s (almost) the number for the Saturn return cycle, an astrological transit that occurs when the planet Saturn returns to the exact zodiac sign and degree it occupied at the time of your birth. This phenomenon triggers a profound period of maturation, karmic reckoning, and life restructuring, which indeed happened as I returned to work at my school for another 42 years, got married, got pregnant (well, my wife) and generally settled into a life in San Francisco that continues until this day. (I had heard it took 28 years for that cycle, but extensive research —ie. Google— says it’s actually 29.5 years and then says the karmic effect can happen anytime between 27 and 30).

 

So on this Sunday, June 28^th, it feels like an auspicious day to announce the availability of my new book on Facebook, deal with the new storage facilities that hold and send out my books, write a welcome letter to my upcoming Level III students in the Orff Levels Courses, plan the last 4 days of the Jazz Class I’m teaching, update my Website, record a Podcast, do my laundry, replenish the ice in the cooler, write two handwritten letters to my grandchildren and so on. 

 

Do you have a special number/ day? And what will you be doing on that day?

 

Weekend Pleasantries

After an intense and satisfying week of teaching and learning jazz, Friday night beckoned and the group stepped into its arms of the Steamboat Natchez, cruising up the lazy river literally while the boat band played Hoagy Carmichael’s song Lazy River. Nice to just be carried along by the music, the river and the convivial company. Post-cruise, searching in the French Quarter for music or a friendly bar, gave it up and went to Frenchman Street where a brass band on the corner welcomed us. Yeah!

 

Today was a short field trip to Louis Armstrong Park, the perfect setting for my little lecture about this remarkable American’s life. On to Congo Square, past Preservation Jazz Hall, arrive at the Jazz Museum and though it was optional for the group to stay together, about five of us enjoyed the excellent exhibit—one of which was about Louis Armstrong and one about Congo Square! I learned some intriguing new details to add to my Jazz History knowledge and in company with my fellow museum-goers, walked on to Café du Monde for some lunch and the required “beignet.” Followed by a bad-idea-ice-cream-cone, both because I was already full and a single small scoop cost $9.00!!!

 

That’s when it started to rain, the first of the trip, but we were able to head back to the car through the covered market and that was another grand pleasure, walking past all the things I will never buy and mostly couldn’t care less about, but the energy and setting reminding me of all the similar markets I’ve strolled through in Ghana or Cuba or Bangkok or Spain and it just felt good. Back to my room for the luxury of an afternoon nap and a free evening to just hang and chill (not easy in the 90 degree weather!) and a Sunday tomorrow to just take care of business— laundry, e-mails, class plans, record a Podcast, maybe write a letter (gasp!) and such. No pressure to search out music or restaurants or socialize.

 

That’s the report from your man in New Orleans. 

Lyfting My Spirits

 

Amongst many wonderful things to say about New Orleans, the quality of conversation with the Lyft drivers is nearing the top of my list. Within 5 seconds of entering the car, there is a friendly and often hilarious rapport—especially with the women drivers—that makes me feel like I just reunited with an old friend. I don’t take Lyft a lot, but in the places I have, I’ve never found the drivers to be as consistently fun and friendly as they are here in New Orleans. I find myself happier stepping out of the car than when I stepped in—also a goal I’ve always told my music class students.

 

Tonight the driver was playing the radio fairly loud and I said, “Well, it’s a good song, but I’m not too happy about the lyrics. Are they talking about me? ” Everyone in the car looked confused, so I explained, "They're singing ‘I’m old and gone.' ” Everyone laughed and said, “No they're not! They're singing,  ‘I’m holding on!!’ Well, the fact that I heard it wrong kind of proved my point. And then I checked my hearing aids and they had gone down to zero, so I felt a little bit better.

 

I am noticing I’m referencing my age a lot. With my 75^th birthday in one month and three days, I seem to steer conversations —or comments during teaching— to legacy and the things I hope will continue. I suppose it’s natural, but maybe not the best idea. Especially when I’m at the top of my game mentally with my writing, can teach six hours a day five days straight with strong energy and am in pretty good shape after my 8-mile daily walks in England and 40-mile bike rides in the Dolomites. Yesterday, I taught some vigorous Steppin’ body percussion and today some equally aerobic Lindy Hop steps. So why obsess about numbers? 

 

I think I’ll follow Clint Eastwood’s advice. When asked what kept him so actively engaged in his 90’s, he replied, “I just don’t let the old man in.”

Good idea! And so this young man turns to sleep and eagerly awaits day six of the Jazz Course.

 

And if I need a boost to my spirits, why, Lyft awaits me! 

The Thorn and the Rose

Now into Day Four of my  Jazz Course in New Orleans, sunny, hot and not a drop of rain in sight. Every day with the 17 students a step in the cool, refreshing water of bliss. A lovely group of people, not a single one rubbing against the grain of group cohesion and the unusual situation that two are brothers, two are mother and daughter, two are husband and wife and four all finished Level III with me recently. The teaching is effortlessly doing its work of broadening the smiles the students enter class with. It feels like we’re  bringing the Ancestors into the room as the music they created that sustained them lives on in the present and will be passed to the children into the future. It certainly is bringing the people into the room into deep communion with their own musical selves in company with each other, forging friendships that often keep echoing for a long time into the future. 

All of it made yet more rich by living this beauty in the place where so much of it was forged (New Orleans!) and in company with three of my jazz bandmates who are sharing the transmission with me so that I might some day pass the baton to them. I love being with them, I love the way they're teaching, I love the way they're aware of the other students and jumping in without being asked to offer help or affirmation. And at night, the four of us often meet the students out on the town to hear some great jazz in the dozens of clubs available. After a meal at some great restaurants!

 

But there is a canker in the rose. In a soul-stirring correspondence with a new friend in Korea, she recently wrote to me: 

 

You wrote that my life seemed to be filled with “exciting, lovely, and disturbing things all at once.” I smiled when I read that, because it felt so true.And perhaps most lives are like that — full of such things all at once. Maybe the difference lies in which part lasts longer, which part we give more weight to, and how we choose to receive it.

 

This morning, I wrote this back to her:

 

Like you, my life is also exciting, lovely and disturbing all at once. Without going into details, I have a relationship with someone that we’ve been cultivating for some eight years now that has been profound and meaningful to us both. For (to me) completely inexplicable and confusing reasons, there is suddenly a change in tone from his end and despite a long conversation trying to get below the surface of what's going on, it feels like he is refusing to own his part in the dynamic and the tension continues. I find it sad, confusing and disturbing, a heavy shadow amidst the joy. So as you say, my job is to decide how much weight to give to it and choose how to receive it. At the moment, not doing well with that! 

 

But on we go, about to dance some Lindy Hop and play a Count Basie Big Band tune. Despite my hopes, all gathered in my new book, music alone never solves all. But just maybe I can dance out my disturbance and release it to the winds. Or to use the title metaphor, choose to hold the stem away from the thorn and keep smelling the rose. Wish me luck!

  

Manufacturing Joy

And so we began last night, an instant community of 22 teachers doing the work of manufacturing joy in the Jazz Factory. In our outlet, there is no assembly line doing repetitive tasks for mere efficiency and material profit grown from narrowing our full human promise. Instead there is the “Second Line” following our dancing feet to the infectious music in free-form exultation. There is no “one-size-fits-all” mass-produced garments to cloak the physical body, but instead the clothes tailored just right for our particular spiritual bodies. Each game, each song, each dance and piece of music is made to clothe our soul, to accent the curves, bring out the particular colors that make us look and feel good, warm us in times of cool weather and cool us when it’s hot. The currency at the check-out counter is the smile not faked for the camera, but radiating in each cell of the body. When the whistle blows to signal a break or the end of the day, it’s a saxophone riff, swingin’, soulful and each time different. Time in our factory is not a slow-dripping faucet to be endured, but the refreshing pool of water in which we wholly immerse ourselves, a return to the womb of comfort and belonging where al boundaries momentarily dissolve. 

 

Welcome to the opening session of The Jazz Course in New Orleans, 2026

 

Not a Good Time

There are times when it is wise to not reflect too deeply. Not take your emotional temperature and wonder why you you’re not having a happy Pepsi moment. Not reflect on whether you belong to the group of people you’ve been thrown together with. Not write a reflection on a Blog that should carry something of interest to others. 

 

I think when you wake-up at 3:30 am in Venice and go to sleep at the equivalent of 3:30 am the next day in New Orleans after traveling for 24 hours might be such a time. 

Somehow I’ve soldiered through the day, reuniting with my fellow jazz band folks and my New Orleans Jazz Course host, in spite of being given a moldy room in a funky dorm that made me feel ill within ten minutes and then insisting on a new room that wouldn’t be ready for another 45 minutes of so. And then the key not working and the too-cold air-conditioning not possible to shut off or make warmer. (This was all last night.)

Still, I managed to sleep somewhat, then this morning, get a desperate laundry going, walk to a market with the lads to go shopping, check out the teaching space, set it up and go over a few tunes, look for an open restaurant at 3:30 in the afternoon, check out my still-wet laundry in the dryer  and now an hour free before teaching my first session from 7:00 pm – 10:00pm. 

 

It's Father’s Day and not a good time to reflect on the gifts I received from my father, 19 years now gone from the planet. Not a good time to reflect on my own immeasurable joy in being a father (and grandfather) from day one to today, not admit my failings or celebrate the surprise of doing some things right. Not a good time to discuss the needed move from toxic male parenting to men truly learning how to nurture and care. Nor is it a good time to acknowledge the Summer Solstice, happening to fall on the same day.

 

So this is all I can manage at the moment. I still hope to call my oldest daughter who gave me a sweet little message and requested a talk for the occasion. (I spoke with my other daughter yesterday). 

 

So Happy Father’s Day and Happy Solstice to all! 

 

And now I need to check on the laundry.