In Turkish music a whole tone is divided in nine, in nine equal pieces but we actually only use four of them, the first, fourth, fifth and eighth comma. So it's 57 different notes in two octaves. It also depends on the makam and on the way the makam goes from low to high, or the other way round. The energy of the makam brings the notes with it, so they're if fact mobile. If the makam is descending the notes are lower, and the reverse is also true. It is closer to natural tuning: well-tempered tuning is not 'well', actually. (laughs)
Even the Turkish system is not perfect, although it is better adjusted to the real frequencies produced by a string if you divide it in parts and pluck or bow it. The Turkish system is better because the tones move, unlike the so-called the circle of fifths in Western harmony. With natural tuning it does not close, it's not a circle at all. In Turkish music it looks more like an ellipsis, but it still does close, so it's not perfect. It's in the nature of the harmony: on a well-tempered piano, if you play an improvisation on A-minor and you concentrate on the note B, you'll hear it lower than its tempered value of around 485 Hz. Then, if you play an improvisation on C-major you'll hear this B higher. It is your brain, your imagination: you tune your brain differently. Composition and harmony in the well-tempered system cannot reach that. In fact, harmony has a big problem, and on that point all the musics all over the world have a big problem. We hear what we like, actually!
Makams cannot be played on well-tempered instruments. You can play a few notes of some makam, but a makam is not just a scale, or only a combination of fourths or fifths. You cannot place a makam on a tempered scale: a makam is moving fourths or fifths in a special logic, in a special combination. Only when—and if—you complete this development correctly will you have the makam.
The single notes of the makam are not the makam itself: Çargah is, they say, close to G-major, but if you play the notes from G to G, the makam is not there, the color is not there; you just played some notes, but not a makam. A makam is a color of frequencies, a logic... it's saying something… it has special feelings, it's even connected with different hours of the day, like ragas. Raga also means makam, it's very close.
Tonalities in western music also have particular feelings: C-minor, or C-sharp-minor have different feelings. If you think of the color of the scale, or tonality, you can have a better improvisation. It's not just the single harmony or the single scale. If instead of thinking what goes with C-major you think about the feeling of that tonality, or D-minor or whatever, you can improvise better, and improvisation is the whole point of jazz, actually.
If you have a special tonality which you like, are very comfortable with, be it playing, improvising or composing, you should find a way to analyze why you have that feeling. If you do that you are going to have a better improvisation. In makams it's easier for us because we grew up with them. I know what Huseyni is and can keep playing it without end, or Uşak or Bayati or Segah. If I'm playing in a jazz band, if I can't think of anything, if I'm stuck and have a moment of difficulty, I think about a makam, which makam could be close to the tonality we play in. Then I go into it and it immediately opens a way for me. Makam is a key for us.
I hear this in Jarrett. He plays well-tempered music, but in his music I hear some modal influences, not makams but very close to them. It's something between modes and makam; he's strongly influenced from that area. Western modes like Dorian and so forth, they all have names from Anatolian regions, and so it's easy for me to play them when jazz musicians play modal.
Fretless guitar was an opening for me after regular guitar, there's no limit after you open that door. It was a real turning point in my life.