Jack Schaeffer is a longtime Marin county saxophonist who, since the 1970s, has frequently been showcased at San Francisco and Sausalito nightclubs. Schaeffer is a staple of Mill Valley's Sweetwater Inn, opening the club with his AnExchange Quartet back in the 1970s. Still playing these many years later, Schaeffer frequently gigs with his Hot House Swing Band.
"Saxophonist Jack," as he is affectionately known, has piqued interest and curiosity with his conversion, invention or, perhaps, contraption, the tiple-styled multi-string instrument Schaeffer has named Strumbola.
Schaeffer has been Robinson's friend for a half century, when he was the drummer in the saxophonist's first Dixieland Combo. Robinson was there when Schaeffer first picked up the clarinet, and the great bandleader/teacher Phil Moore showed him how to blow it. Schaeffer has never looked backhe's been blowin' it ever since.
Even years after Robinson had gone into film he followed Schaeffer's career, flying to Aspen and Sun Valley to catch the saxophonist's gigs. "Always, with my presence in the room, he'd seem to play the most remarkable solo, just for me," says Robinson. Truth be known, Schaeffer always delivers the most remarkable and memorable performance. His styling, phrasing and imagery literally take you somewhere else.
Robinson laughed as he looked back, remembering how, even after years on stage with dance bands, when he first started playing in surf bands Schaeffer would stand off in the wings between solos. Robinson had to tell him he was supposed to stay on stage. He just felt awkward standing there doing nothing. He learned to take small dance steps and, in time, got used to being part of the show even while not playing. It seems that his participative attitude has had much to do with Schaeffer's musical designs, and filling the creative space.
All About Jazz: What need did you have to bring you to developed the Strumbola?
Jack Schaeffer: The group I've been with for years (Hot House Swing Band) showcases pre-1949 swing jazz, with leanings toward Django/Grapelli stylings (guitar, bass, violin, sax[es], and sometimes trumpet, if the gig pays enough). The ideal seven pieces, Hot House plays with drums, but we gig all the way down to a three-piece, if that's the budget we have t'work with. Even with the seven-piece setup, though, there was only one guitaristBill DeKuiperand when he soloed, I missed hearing a string-rhythm backup, even though our violinist did his best to fill in behind him with chord-pluck rhythm accents.
So I decided maybe I could play some rhythm "ka-chunks," y'know, and do something simple (hah!) to fill in behind his solos as accompaniment. So...what rhythm instrument?
Guitar? No. Definitely not simple. Too much finger-tip trauma for these sax-accustomed fingers. I recalled, too well, the lessons of my early-sixties folk guitar years. The calluses, the pain, the barre-chord cramps...sheesh! I kept thinking simple, so I seriously considered creating the same kinda background chord-plink accompaniment that our violinist added during the guitar solos by re-tuning a tenor or baritone balalaika. It had only three strings; thought I might be able to handle strumming a basic triad, plus some color notes here n'there.
This is when I thought out the diminished (Strumbola) tuning concept, based on a three-string (three-bout) instrument. Next, I thought, maybe even restring a guitar in three pairs of two, and get doubles and even octaves going. That'd give me way more of that meaty rhythm "chunk," what Django used to call "Le pump," that I was after. But I found the stretch at the bottom of a full-size guitar neck too much of a reach to articulate the pinky and ring finger moves.
Mill Valley's Sweetwater Inn
AAJ: Speaking of finger-stretch, didn't you play a Fender Jazz Bass with the AnExchange Quartet?
JS: I was actually the bassist with the group, except when I soloed on the saxophones. So for solos, I'd slip off the bass and hand it off to the chick singer, Patty Parsons. I'd keep playing while I ducked out under the strap, then I'd drop it down over her head, where she'd take over the left hand first, then the right. Then I'd grab a horn. After my solo, just the reverse. Later on, though, she got her own bass. A Hoffner violin bass. Nice and light for her, but it kinda took some of the fun out of it for me.
AAJ: So you did have some experience making that reach?
JS: The reach, oh yeah. But the bass guitar was single note at a time stuff, not the hold some strings down while you articulate the others kinda concept that eventually became Strumbola.
AAJ: So, how'd you resolve the reach problem?
JS: The only answer was find a shorter scale neck. So I looked around for something on which a four-fret reach down by the nut might work. Turns out a 21-inch scale is just about max for my particular hand size.
Also, after mulling a bit, I saw that I could do something more effective with a four-bout instrument. By barring every chord, and using the middle/ring/pinky fingers to move through the voicings, I'd even get a doubling effect in the bottom and top coursesthe index tip/pinky comb, which facilitates melodic movement on the high course down through the major 7, the dominant 7, and 6th, etc.
Maybe just a note on the tuning, here. The cool thing about using the diminished chord as your open tuning is that the resulting chord fingering moves are isometric up and down, just one course removed. This also facilitates visualization of music theory in general. As all the chords are grown or expand from the tightest squeeze of the full diminished chord, by adding finger positions to the frets just north of the index Finger, barre and the squished-togetherness of the notes gives your strummed chords a real nice close harmony" sound, reminiscent of '30s and '40s style swing jazz.
The other cool thing is that Strumbola chords are played mostly using the flat parts of your fingers, not the tips. Calluses and pain, be gone!