12-bar blues is a perfect example of slang in music. That chord progression has existed in some form for 400 years. In the 17th century, tonic-subdominant-dominant progressions were the apex of codified musical grammar. Another “slang” or metaphor of blues is that it is “open source”, meaning you have the code freely available from which you can make variations and remix it with other material. The process evolves new forms, up until it runs out of energy. Blues ran out of slang energy decades ago after the British invasion. After that, it was Prog (Classical fusion), and Jazz (Jazz fusion). But perhaps the “fusionability” of musical slang can be reactivated when a certain genre of music is ready for it. This is probably always happening but we never notice it because the variants are probably too numerous to notice. Jazz fusion as slang worked in the 1970s because it could be absorbed without distractions. Now there are too much of both variants and distractions. At some point, you have to go back to old grammars in order to discover new slangs. You can tell when musical slangs become grammars when they get absorbed, such as a music lesson involving the mechanical performance of ascending and descending blues scales—something blues musicians never thought of doing banging on a guitar in an open tuning in the 1930s.
Inner Dialogues in Music
I noticed long ago that in any kind of performance, whether in sports or in the arts, there is a “director” calling out the steps of what to do next, but is not something that happens in any other situation, such as writing music, or while practicing. In improvisation, I often find myself making inner notes about what I’m going to do next, such as “switch to the upper octave”, “it would be interesting if I did (this)”, “create tension by leaving space”, and so on. Anyone that improvised must do this to do anything that seems coherent. There’s another element (which does involve “practice”), which is essentially the creation of a set of routines that can be drawn from in a performance situation.
Takeaways:
Beats, as opposed to traditional rhythms, are the “slang” of rhythm.
Reading is about sound—the music of language. Even meaningless lyrics can be meaningful if they simply support the sound—a kind of slang. (Ted Gioia: ‘Music is always more than notes. It is made out of sounds. Confusing these two is not a small matter … music does not happen in the brain. Music takes place in the world … Songs still possess magic, even for those who have forgotten how to tap into it.’ https://aeon.co/essays/the-universal-forces-of-sound-and-rhythm-enhance-thought-and-feeling
At some point, you have to go back to old grammars in order to discover new slangs. You can tell when musical slangs become grammars (or traditions) when they get absorbed, such as a music lesson involving the mechanical performance of ascending and descending blues scales for use as a remixable sample. After doing that a few times you really want a new slang.
The idea of “soul” is a slang. It's a variation that everyone understands more intuitively.
John McWhoter’s You're Gonna Hafta