Why Graphic Scores Change Everything with Jon Raskin
In this episode of Music from Humans, we dive deep with the legendary Jon Raskin — founding member of the Rova Saxophone Quartet — shares how graphic scores transformed his approach to composing and improvising. We dive into the creative process behind major works like The Hear and Now and Winter Valley Clouds, explore how visual art and sound intersect, and discuss how listening, space, and collaboration shape meaningful improvised music.Jon reflects on decades of musical exploration and how creating opportunities for players to listen, respond, and invent together leads to truly dynamic performances. Whether you’re a musician, composer, or fan of experimental sound, this conversation is a deep look into the craft of making music live and breathe.
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Jon Raskin is a saxophonist and composer best known as a founding member of the groundbreaking ROVA Saxophone Quartet. For nearly half a century, Raskin has been a quiet pioneer in experimental and avant-garde jazz, helping redefine what a saxophone ensemble can do. His career is a vivid journey through the outer limits of jazz – from exploring unconventional sounds with ROVA to engaging in bold collaborations across genres. The result is a biography of an artist who remains both innovative and influential, all while staying true to an adventurous musical vision.
Early Roots and the Birth of ROVA
Raskin’s musical foundation was laid early. Born in 1954 in rural Heppner, Oregon, he grew up under the guidance of a father who was a band teacher. This meant Raskin was steeped in music from childhood – he picked up clarinet first and soon moved on to saxophone. By his teens and college years, he was playing everything from school jazz ensembles to rock bands, absorbing a wide spectrum of influences. In the 1970s, Raskin studied composition and theory under forward-thinking mentors (such as Dr. Barney Childs and Allaudin Mathieu) and even worked with composer John Adams in San Francisco. These experiences gave him a broad creative outlook, blending classical new-music concepts with jazz improvisation.
All of this set the stage for ROVA, the all-saxophone quartet Raskin co-founded in San Francisco in 1977. The group’s name itself comes from the last initials of its original members – Raskin, Ochs, Voigt, Ackley – a signal of their tight collaboration. ROVA’s formation came during a fertile period for avant-garde jazz, when artists were breaking away from standard lineups and experimenting with new formats. A four-saxophone ensemble with no rhythm section was almost unheard of, but Raskin and his colleagues made it their playground. ROVA gave its first performance in early 1978 and quickly established a reputation for fearless improvisation and intricate composed frameworks. Raskin’s baritone and alto sax work became a cornerstone of the quartet’s sound, anchoring daring improvisations and adding rich tonal depth.
Pushing the Boundaries of Jazz
As part of ROVA, Jon Raskin helped push jazz into uncharted territory. He has spent decades exploring the intersection of improvisation and composition, crafting music that blurs the line between spontaneous creation and structured art. Under Raskin’s co-leadership, ROVA embraced influences ranging from the free jazz of John Coltrane and Ornette Coleman to the modernist ideas of composers like John Cage and Olivier Messiaen. The quartet’s performances often felt like sonic adventures – one moment skirling frenzies of free improv, the next moment tight unison lines or delicate textures. Raskin’s versatility on baritone, alto, and even sopranino saxophone (plus occasional forays into electronics and the concertina) enabled the group to conjure an extraordinary range of sounds.
Throughout the years, Raskin not only played in ROVA but also took on the role of composer and conceptualist. He penned original pieces for the quartet and spearheaded ambitious projects that became highlights of ROVA’s history. In the 1980s, for example, ROVA became the first American new-music ensemble to tour the Soviet Union – a bold cultural exchange that underscored their cutting-edge status. Raskin also helped organize tributes to jazz icons through a distinctly avant-garde lens. Notably, he coordinated a 30th-anniversary concert of John Coltrane’s Ascension, reimagining the infamous free-jazz epic for modern ears (this eventually evolved into ROVA’s electrifying Electric Ascension project, featuring an expanded ensemble and updated instrumentation). Likewise, Raskin was involved when ROVA tackled the music of Miles Davis’s electric period, partnering with the Yo Miles! project to perform Davis’s 1970s jazz-rock material at the historic Fillmore. These endeavors showed Raskin’s reverence for jazz tradition matched with a desire to reinvent it. From collaborating with a Japanese taiko drum ensemble for a cross-cultural piece, to co-creating multimedia installations blending sound and visual art, he continually pushed the envelope of what jazz performance could encompass.
Collaborations and Ongoing Influence
Beyond his work with ROVA, Jon Raskin has built an impressive portfolio of solo and collaborative ventures. In the avant-garde music world, he’s regarded as a musician’s musician – someone who readily jumps into new projects and ensemble configurations. Over the years, he has performed or recorded with a who’s who of creative music innovators. To name just a few, Raskin has teamed up with saxophone icon Anthony Braxton, experimental guitar legend Fred Frith, free-jazz pioneer Sam Rivers, and visionary composer Pauline Oliveros. Each collaboration highlights a different facet of Raskin’s musical personality, whether it’s engaging in intricate composed improvisation or diving into deep-end freeform exchanges.
Raskin’s discography outside of ROVA is as diverse as it is adventurous. He has appeared on tribute recordings like Wavelength Infinity: A Sun Ra Tribute, contributed to modern classical-jazz hybrids like a 25th-anniversary performance of Terry Riley’s In C, and created experimental works in small group settings. One of his projects led to an album on John Zorn’s Tzadik label (Open Box), blending improvisational music with spoken word and electronics. He’s also released intimate solo experiments – including an unusual recording featuring jaw harp resonating inside a huge ceramic vase – showing that his curiosity for sound knows no limits. On the bandstand, Raskin has led or co-led groups such as the Jon Raskin Quartet and the FPR Trio (with fellow saxophonists Frank Gratkowski and Phillip Greenlief), continuing to explore new textures in ensemble improvisation. He even found common ground with the avant-rock world, working on a piece that brought together ROVA and the experimental rock band Mr. Bungle, exemplifying his boundary-crossing ethos.
Today, Jon Raskin remains an active and vital force in music. He continues to perform regularly, especially around Northern California, often popping up in inventive one-off ensembles and continuing ROVA’s mission with the quartet’s ongoing projects. His impact on the avant-garde jazz scene is both deep and lasting. Every time a saxophone-only ensemble takes the stage or a jazz group dares to break free of convention, there’s a bit of Raskin’s pioneering spirit in the air. Quietly charismatic and fiercely creative, Jon Raskin has carved out a unique legacy – one defined not by flashy headlines, but by a steady, uncompromising dedication to musical exploration that has inspired countless listeners and fellow musicians alike.
All my plans for the last two weeks to work on my 4th symphony went up in smoke. I haven’t touched it.
I knew that preparing my orchestra for our May concert would cut into my composing time, but I didn’t anticipate just how much. Unfortunately, two composers dropped out at the last minute—one the week of the deadline, the other two weeks after. That put our concert lineup in serious jeopardy. To make matters worse, the backup piece we received from another composer didn’t match our ensemble’s instrumentation.
To keep the concert afloat (and the budget balanced), I dug into my catalog and pulled out a piece we performed about ten years ago: Triangles—one of my guided improvisation works.
This piece uses time-based sections instead of traditional measures and beats, a structure similar to another piece already programmed. I chose Triangles because it’s relatively forgiving—perfect when players only have a few weeks with the parts—and it weaves mistakes more gently into the overall texture.
However, Triangles had been sitting untouched for a decade. Luckily, I still had PDFs of the parts, but I remembered that the original instructions were a bit confusing even back then. And since our orchestra now has a lot of new members who aren’t familiar with this style, I needed to update the materials to make it easier to understand.
Clarifying the Instructions
“base notes” and “satellite notes.”
One of the biggest sticking points was the relationship between “base notes” and “satellite notes.” In the piece, you begin on a base note, move to a satellite note, and return to a base before shifting again. This creates floating, interlocking melodies that emphasize specific intervals—something that’s been effective in other works I’ve written.
I rewrote the instructions to make this concept clearer and discussed them with several players to see if the revisions helped. Some still found it confusing at first, so I re-explained it individually. I’m hoping with some rehearsal and the new instructions, it will click more naturally.
Finishing Old Business
While revisiting Triangles, I discovered a few more loose ends.
The original version lacked a glockenspiel part because we didn’t have a glockenspiel player available at the premiere. I had simply left that part unfinished. This time, I completed it properly.
Several PDFs were missing critical solid crescendo–decrescendo markings. I’m not sure why, but I recreated them to match my original intent.
solid crescendo–decrescendo
I also noticed that the second section of the piece was longer than I intended it due to a mistake. I didn’t fix it yet (correcting it now would be too disruptive for the upcoming performance), but when I eventually migrate Triangles to Dorico, I’ll fix the section timings properly.
To help the conductor and ensemble practice, I made a video that handles the countdown timings for each section. Since Triangles doesn’t rely on a traditional conductor beat-by-beat, the video will help keep everyone synchronized and change at the proper timings. I also printed and mailed off a full score, among the other logistical details that ate up time.
Perspective on Lost Time
In reality, I shouldn’t be frustrated. I gained another opportunity to have one of my pieces performed—and that’s always the larger goal. Still, it’s a reminder that even the best-laid plans can get completely reshaped when unexpected challenges—and unexpected opportunities—drop into your lap.
My fourth symphony will have to wait just a little longer. But at least Triangles is getting a second life, and I’m excited to hear it again with fresh ears.
After an adventurous backpacking trip with the family to the Channel Islands for spring break, I’ve returned to work on the fourth movement of my Symphony No. 4. This movement has been sitting dormant for a while—since 2019, in fact—when I first announced that it would be a fusion of Beethoven’s Eroica symphony finale and the stylistic fingerprints of Hindemith. But as I’ve resumed sketching and revisiting old notes, I’m starting to hear echoes of Lutosławski and even Ruggles in there too, likely because he left a mark on the first movement of the symphony.
Reexamining the Theme
Since this final movement is a theme and variations, I decided to revisit my earlier drafts of the theme before writing any further. Beethoven reused this theme in several works—notably Fünfzehn Variationen(15 Variations), Op. 35, and again in the finale of his ballet, Die Geschöpfe des Prometheus (The Creatures of Prometheus), Op. 43.
Fünfzehn Variationen
Die Geschöpfe des Prometheus - Finale
He famously reworked it yet again in the Eroica. That kind of reuse tells you something: this is a powerful, flexible theme.
Symphony No. 3, "Eroica", 4th movement
So before diving into the structure of the movement, I needed to make sure my own version of the theme was equally strong.
My earlier sketches focused on the bass line, which plays a foundational role in Beethoven’s variations and ends similarly to the theme I’d already written into the first movement of my own symphony. That continuity was intentional. It’s part of the long-range planning I had done back when this symphony was first taking shape. I felt pretty confident in those notes, which is why I actually started drafting the first section of the movement just before our trip. But right before we left, I realized I needed to flesh out the full theme properly before continuing—so I hit pause.
Hindemith, Quartal Voicings, and a Touch of Jazz
The treble line of the theme was meant to evoke Hindemith’s melodic style. I’ve always admired how his melodies can be surprising and twisty while still feeling grounded in tonality. Some of his quartal harmonies remind me of McCoy Tyner’s jazz voicings—another influence I find incredibly rich.
In fact, Hindemith was one of the first ingredients I knew I wanted for this movement, long before I chose the Beethoven finale as a formal model. And choosing that particular Beethoven movement made sense, not just because of the form, but because of the fugue possibilities—Hindemith adored fugues. The idea clicked. Add in a few textures that feel reminiscent of Lutosławski’s Symphony No. 3 (one of my all-time favorite works), and you can see where this is heading.
There’s also the rhythmic link: the five-note rhythmic theme I’ve been threading through the entire symphony needed to appear here too. Fortunately, this thematic material lends itself nicely to that kind of integration.
Refining the Theme
Back to the present: once I sat down with my earlier draft, I developed a new treble melody—one that hints at Beethoven’s original but steers more toward Hindemith while also echoing the Ruggles-like theme from my first movement. After several revisions, I landed on something that finally felt right. This, of course, meant updating the bass line to match—but I’m glad I caught it before moving further.
4th Movement Theme
I went back, made the necessary adjustments to what I had already written, and then moved forward quickly, getting ideas down in Dorico. (I use notation software like it’s paper—especially when working on pieces that don’t require more modern notational tricks. That approach has served me well since the ’80s.)
Following Beethoven’s structure, I let the form guide me: if he used the bass line as the basis for a variation, I did too, and I kept the lengths of variations roughly proportional. I didn’t try to perfect every idea right away. Instead, I marked sections to revisit later and let myself keep writing. I try not to be too critical at this stage, and not so rigid that I miss the opportunity for unexpected ideas to appear and grow—something I always encourage composers to allow in their own process. Some of my favorite moments come from those surprises, emerging better than anything I originally planned.
Now I’m about two minutes into the piece, and I’m about to introduce the treble melody for the first time. The momentum is strong, and I’m trying to ride that wave.
Balancing Work and Music
Of course, composing is just one part of the puzzle. I’ve also got performance commitments and I’m busy preparing my orchestra for its spring concert in May. Add in the usual tasks (like filing taxes), and my days are full. Still, I’m doing my best to maintain this creative groove and move the symphony forward.
With any luck, I’ll be able to keep up the pace and have more to share with you soon. I’m excited to finally be giving this symphony the attention it deserves, and I hope to wrap up this movement—and the symphony itself—by summer’s end.
