"The Real Book is the worst thing that ever happened to jazz." So said a prominent local bassist, years ago, in a conversation we were having. I got a kick out of his contrariness, but I also think I understood what he was trying to say - that The Real Book was a homogenizing force that relieved students of the burden of ever having to really learn or internalize tunes in the way that previous generations of jazz musicians had done as a matter of course. However, I didn't share this perspective. When the aforementioned bassist started playing, he came up in an era where a young jazz musician could often get a six-nights-a-week gig playing jazz in a restaurant or club. Playing with that kind of frequency was a fantastic training ground for learning the standard repertoire, often by ear and "on the bandstand". By the time I started playing jazz in 1985 or so, this was less frequently the case. Though I found enough work to make a living, the new reality was that everyone had a Real Book and the expectation was that you would get one (or two or three) and use it. So I did, and it became my musical center, where began my process of learning the hundreds of tunes that I now know, and which knowledge I consider one of my biggest musical assets.
I support the democratization of jazz, and the idea that jazz is for everyone. To insist that tunes be learned this way and not that way, is to exclude people from this great art form. Playing jazz makes peoples' lives better. The Real Book has made this experience possible for multiple generations of musicians, and I consider it a force for good, full stop. Simply put, I'm a fan. At The Jazz Workshop we own no less than 15 copies in its various tranpositions (concert, Bb, Eb and bass clef).
(A very brief history of the Real Book: The name is a swaggering play on the broader category of "Fake Books" to which the Real Book belongs. The name "Fake Book" speaks to the idea that books of this type provide just enough information for one to "fake" their way through a tune - just the melody and chord symbols showing the outline of the harmony. Since the 1940's, poorly written (and illegal) fake books proliferated, culminating in perhaps the most famous of those, the so-called "Tune-Dex", a Rolodex-style collection of small charts written on index-card sized pages. In the early 1970s, a couple of Berklee students took it on themselves to create a new fake book which would be a higher-quality document, with better layout, chord changes, and general usability - and also which had newer and hipper tunes - and the Real Book was born. This book made its way all over the world for the next 35 or so years, until Hal Leonard published a legal version in 2006. To learn the whole story, we recommend you check out the excellent podcast 99% Invisible, and their episode simply called "The Real Book".)
So the Real Book's place in jazz education is well-established. But for the student, questions remain. This is a book that comes with no clear instructions for its use. And furthermore, it lives up to the idea of being a "Fake Book" in that it provides you with a relative minimum of information - just the melody line, and chord symbols. So how does one use this book? Let's look at the two things the book shows us - first the melody, and then the harmony (i.e., the chords).
First of all, everything in the Real Book is either a "swing" feel or a "straight" feel, and most of the tunes that are a "straight" feel are "latin" tunes of one kind or another. Most of the tunes in that latter category are Bossa Nova tunes (examples include "Quiet Nights", "Desafinado", and "How Insensitive"). Some are Latin Jazz tunes ("500 Miles High", "Recordame"), and are therefore a little different in their feel - or COULD be. Often we end up playing those in a general Bossa Nova feel. Finding a recording or two can be helpful in determining what the feel of the tune is supposed to be.
With regard to the melody of the tune: Almost every tune in the Real Book is either a "Songbook" tune - that is, a tune from the "Great American Songbook", usually referring to a tune written somewhere from the 30's to the 60's for a musical, stage play or a movie - or a "jazz tune", a tune written by a jazz composer. Tunes in the former category are often written in the Real Book in a very basic, unadorned way, with a very simple rhythmic presentation - often mostly quarter notes with very little syncopation. The expectation here is that the performer will "interpret" the melody somewhat and play it in an expressive way that fits in with jazz norms - maybe "re-rhythmatizing" it (as swing era arranger Sy Oliver said, coining a new word), or otherwise spontaneously changing the melody to make it more vibrant. "Jazz" tunes, by contrast, are usually written with all of the syncopation and jazz phrasing built in by the composer, and are intended to be read more or less exactly as written. This distinction is important to understand.
Even more difficult to properly understand, perhaps, are the chord symbols. These symbols are often the only information that's really provided to a rhythm section. The pianist, guitarist and bassist are tasked with providing a "jazz" accompaniment for these tunes from this minimal information.
Part of what one has to learn to be successful in a jazz rhythm section are current norms around chordal accompaniment ("comping", as jazz musicians refer to it) and bass lines. Pianists and guitarists are expected to know chord voicings that convey the right sound and feel, and to play them in an appropriate rhythm that makes the groove work. These rhythms are of course different in "swing" and "latin" feels. Bass players need to know how to play through these chord changes with either a "two feel" (generally two half-notes per bar, often the root and fifth of the chord) or a walking bass line (four notes per bar) - or in the case of a latin feel, usually some version of a sort of two-feel but with a straight rhythm, not swung.
It may not seem like it at first, but being presented this minimum of information affords the jazz musician a lot of freedom - the opportunity to make their own aesthetic choices for chord voicings, comping rhythms, and when to play and when to "lay out" and leave space. Of course, to reach the point where this feels like freedom, usually takes a lot of time and study - or a lot of "time in grade", to borrow a phrase from government work.
The Real Book is here to stay, having been part of the jazz landscape for over 50 years now. The popular "iRealPro" app has taken the jazz world by storm, with it's name clearly an allusion to the Real Book, but it doesn't replace it. Studying jazz for most of us still means owning one of these books and getting familiar with its contents - or maybe getting the digital version and reading it on your iPad! However you use it, the Real Book will continue to serve as the center of of the jazz education world for some time to come. Now if they could just make one where the cover didn't come off after a few years of use....