I usually refrain from commenting/report on a performance of mine, for the reason that I cannot see what I could/should add to the music… in fact, I quite agree with Leo Smith when he writes: “a piece of improvisation has been done, and after it’s done, there’s nothing to be said about it because it affects your life whether you like it or not…” furthermore, no matter how many thoughts I can piece together in this post, once copied to your hard drive they will only take a few dozens of kilobytes, while the mp3s of the performances require megabytes… hundred more times information in the music itself that I could ever put together in language form… makes sense?
During a chat with Murray Campbell after the January Stet Lab we discovered we both had worked with Menlo Macfarlane, a Canadian artist/performer now based in Nevada County. I remember Menlo talking about writer’s block, and saying something like: “if you sit at your desk and you assume the writer’s posture, then The Writer will come through you… things to write will pop up in your mind, connect to each other and so on….”
While this might explain why this could become a looooong post (you can blame The Writer), it actually says a lot about the way I think about my approach to musical improvisation… in my experience I have encountered improvisation first as an outcome of African heritage, and always felt some sort of connection with possession rituals and the practice of collective improvisation.
In the best moments when music really works, I still have the impression that music is coming through the musicians, and the musicians receive it and transmit it more or less like a radio set… think about that weird and beautiful sound that came out of your instrument almost by accident, and that you are trying to recreate with no success and you get the picture.
In musical practice this translates as not trusting my intellect to take too much hold on my performance, not trusting it to make decisions or devising strategies on its own.
Nerve endings that report external temperature and humidity percentage, and my sense of smell have probably as much input in what I’m playing as information that my ears report to my brain.
Finally getting to February 2009 Stet Lab, I must say that there was a great energy all night and the music felt powerful and engaging from the very first minute and throughout all performances. I was honored to have to chance to sit-in with Paul Dunmall, Mark Sanders, Neil O’Loghlen and Katie O’Looney for the first piece, and also Han-earl Park, Jamie Smith and Paul Dowling for the final jam… I loved it, and got the feeling the audience enjoyed it too.
I brought my lapsteel, which is becoming less of a tool for sliding than a source of interesting sounds, and went straight into scratchy mode, looking to explore the highest possible pitches I can get from it and the in-between-pickups zone… I find that not knowing what I’m going to do generally helps… that’s probably why I like to engage in different instruments, and get the freshness/sense of wonder at the sounds that only a beginner can get from an instrument… I generally get bored and not happy with myself when I realize my performance relies too much on tricks and material that I know well… I guess my strategy could be summed up as: Risks First.
I thank everyone that worked towards organizing this Stet Lab and run it as smooth as possible, and thank especially Jamie and Katie for pushing the limits and bringing in some rock’n’roll.
4 Comments
Andrea,
Great post.
A few questions…
What would you say if I said Smith strongly encouraged his students to talk about their improvisations? (Is there an alternative reading of the Smith quote?)
I find that not knowing what I’m going to do generally helps… I guess my strategy could be summed up as: Risks First.
Doesn’t brining the lapsteel, which you said “is becoming less of a tool for sliding than a source of interesting sounds”, a form of preparation or a premeditation?
You also told me that you wanted to move away from the ‘free jazz’ sound of ‘it’s a great door, innit?’, which suggests an intellect at work—planning and scheming. Was moving towards the “scratchy mode” more or less risky compared to entering the ‘free jazz’ sound for you?
Thanks for writing.
Han
Thanks for your comment, Han,
i think what you’re saying ironically demonstrates what i write in the first paragraph of my post.. it’s like the Ourobourous..
when i’m talking about my performance i can hardly make sense at all, and i’m forced to use terms or expression that in the end don’t mean much.. i see this tension between the necessity of talking and clarifying things and get a better grasp from the discussion, and the inadequacy of verbal language to describe music significantly.
(after all, why bother playing music at all, when we could just sit down and have an interesting discussion about it?)
I’m sure there’s plenty of alternative readings of Smith’s quote that my partial understanding did not grasp.. care shedding a bit of light about it? (at least about your reading of it)
bringing the lapsteel meant using an instrument that although i’m quite comfortable with, i had not used for improvising for many months.. i was interested in seeing how the things i have learned in the meantime would apply to it, and was rejecting the more comfortable option of using the usual guitar..
at the same time as you point out i was not able to break habits that much: going into scratchy mode was pretty much a choice for an easy life there..
mind the fact that i’m not a jazz player whatsoever, so entering the free jazz world wasn’t really an option..
but what i was talking about was my doubts about performing safely, using the tricks i have learned and being smart… as opposed to being more experimental, try things out and se what happens..
in this sense i seem to get more interesting results (to me at least) when jamming and just doing thing for the fun of it, than when performing in a more official and formal context..
something to work on i’d say
I’m sure there’s plenty of alternative readings of Smith’s quote that my partial understanding did not grasp.. care shedding a bit of light about it?
Well, given that Smith did strongly encourage post-performance discussion of improvised music in the classroom, and, in his book, made a revolutionary call towards a more self-aware (reflexive?) discussion of creative music, I’m wondering if the quote suggests (a) Smith was not being consistent, (b) the observation pertains to improvisers of a certain experience, but not to the rest of us, or (c) that he is stating, not so much that improvisations should not be talked about, but that its effects exists regardless of such discussions.
but what i was talking about was my doubts about performing safely, using the tricks i have learned and being smart… as opposed to being more experimental, try things out and se what happens.
Exactly, your choices don’t (and probably shouldn’t) break down into easy categories: ‘safety first’ probably doesn’t best describe what you do, but nor does ‘risk first’. I’m asking about how (and why) you make the choices you make, and, if those dichotomies don’t apply, how best to discuss (explore and explode) them (as unsatisfactory as verbal/textual descriptions may be).
If there’s one thing I learned from Ishmael, it’s to reflexively engage with the practice of improvisation (including navigating what Ishmael sometimes called ‘the known’ and ‘the unknown’).
Does that make sense?
(Smith) Pretty much all the above options make sense, the third one seems slightly more probable.
Thanks for your clarification, I quite agree with what you are saying, and appreciate your call (ans Smith’s) for self-awareness about one’s own improvisations.
I think the process of making my choices happens quite fast, is usually related to what is happening around me and it usually revolves around creating contrast, or moving within areas that are not occupied by other sounds
but it happens fast and in the moment so i don’t really have the tendency to go back to it and think about it that much.. what i am drawing from Smith is basically that you can’t really go back and add anything or ‘correct’ a past improvisation, but you can (through the process of talking/thinking/reflecting about it) get insights that can be used in making the next one better.
my particular concern from recent work and performances, is how the public aspect to it shapes the performance..
in the sense that what i am looking for is the moment when the music is really creative.. borrowing William Parker’s idea of music being creative when it takes over and has a life of its own, well beyond the musicians’ intentions..
so i am wondering how can my thinking and planning works in that direction, and how much of it stands in the way..
so far, the best advice i have found in this regard came from Bob Brozman: in order to let the music flow freely, one has to learn to turn the ‘giveashitter’ off