The Shed, part 1

 Back when I first started my formal jazz studies as a college undergrad, I heard the older jazz musicians throw around the term "woodshedding."  Sometimes it was truncated to merely "shed."  And there were mutations and variations, such as "shedding," or "to shed."  One example might be something like "Man, that chart was so difficult I had to shed it for a week!"

Everyone seemed to know what this meant, and nodded knowingly when the term was deployed.  Except me.  I was the youngest in this community of jazz musicians, so one day when no one was around except for one elderly statesman of the community, I timidly asked him the definition of "woodshedding."  He explained to me that it refers to practicing.  Based on the legend, there was a time when early jazz musicians would practice out behind the woodshed so that no one would hear them.  I truly understood that last part, as I didn't, and still don't, want anyone to hear me practicing.  This evolved in early jazz lore and nomenclature to mean that when you were practicing, you went out behind the woodshed.  "Out behind the woodshed" was eventually shortened to "the woodshed," and then further abbreviated as "the shed."  

I've also heard it used in an instructional way, such as "You better go shed your Mixolydian scales."  My first semester at Berklee, I was in a group wherein the drummer, who lived in the dorms, had homemade signs in his dorm room such as TO THE SHED and THE SHED THE SHED.  I never asked him about the signs; I didn't know if he needed reminders for practicing or it was a kind of tacit encouragement or cheering on from his walls.  But I did smile when I saw them.

There are some exceptions in the shedding model.  The first that comes to mind is the location of Sonny Rollins' practicing discipline in the late 1950s in New York City.  Instead of a woodshed, either literal or figurative, Sonny did his shedding on the Williamsburg Bridge.  I wonder if Sonny referred to it as "bridging."

Like so much of the other jazz terminology, "shed" found its way into my vocabulary all those many years ago, and it's still firmly entrenched there and in daily use, even though I don't consider myself to be a jazz musician.  It is so deeply entrenched that I use it without considering that the person to whom I'm speaking may have no idea what it means.  Last week, a non-musician friend of mine asked me what I'd been doing all week, and I replied "Shedding."  There was a slight pause, and then he asked me if my hair was falling out.  I smiled, said no, and then explained the term to him.

I have coffee every Saturday morning with a fellow guitarist friend.  We usually discuss on what we've been working during the week since we last spoke.  My weekly report always includes something like "Shedding the 30," which translates into "practicing on the 30-string," or one of my other instruments.  He fully understands jazz terminology, so we're good.

I am in the shed every day, without fail.  Most days I'm in there multiple times.

I'd write more, but I need to get back to the shed.

-kk

 

The Shed, part 2