I’m preparing for a couple of performances. Eight days from now I’m going to play improvised percussion on traditional and found instruments while two Contemporary dancers improvise movement. We will feed off of each other, react to each other, and create something unique to that moment and place.
I have no idea of what I might play. This sort of situation might many people very anxious. It makes me a little bit anxious, but not very. I have slowly learned that I can trust myself. I know that if I allow myself to relax, ideas will present themselves in the moment. They have before. they will again.
Live improvisation is potentially magical and powerful, because it is essentially "invention" and "composition" - in the moment. It forces us to be very aware, and to utilize (and depend on) our intuition. When the audience knows that improvisation is taking place, they go along for the ride too… not knowing what might happen next. The audience's energy helps direct the performance. Improvisation performance is a somewhat courageous thing to do, because there is always a risk of failure. It is a form of “living on the edge”. But as any Jazz fan knows, there is also a chance of being part of something amazing.
The skills needed in improvisation - being fully present in the present moment - being very here, right now - these are the same skills that are developed in the practice of Zen Buddhism. So I guess it makes sense that I’m drawn to both of these things.
So when I begin to play next Saturday evening, I will play one note. And that one “seed” note will decide my path to the next note, and so on. It will grow into something new… something I have never heard before. The first note will reverberate in the performance space in a unique way. The room will have a unique quality of echo and reverberation - dependent on every object in the space, and upon the humidity of the air, and countless other factors. That first note reverberating in the space will have a resonant frequency - a musical note. I will be drawn to that note because of the way it vibrates louder than the other harmonics. Every room has it’s own voice, and we can find each room's voice by making sounds - and listening intently. I believe that we do this subconsciously when we speak.
My musical choices that evening will be guided by the room sound, and also by the ways that the dancers respond to my previous notes and sounds. Also, by the way the audience reacts to our overall performance. And also by my inner mood that moment. And by every musical experience I have ever had. It is a complex interdependent whole, shifting through time. When I play, I am aware of all of these things at play.
Daniel Lanois released a DVD last year called “Here Is What Is”. In it there is a clip of Brian Eno saying how he would like the public to know that: “beautiful things grow out of shit. Because, nobody ever believes that. You know, everyone thinks that Beethoven had his string quartets completely in his head. They somehow appeared there and formed in his head and all he had to do was write them down and they would kind of be manifest to the world. But I think that what’s so interesting and what would really be a lesson that everybody should learn is that things come out of nothing. Things evolve out of nothing. You know, the tiniest seed in the right situation turns into the most beautiful forest.”
When I first learned to play guitar I just wanted to learn how to tune it properly, how to play notes, and how to form chords on the fretboard. I didn’t want to learn how to play anyone else’s music. I didn’t want anyone else’s style to influence my own too much. I wanted to develop my own style. I didn’t even want to know the names of the chords I learned. There was music playing in my head already … music that I knew that I was imagining. I wanted to give that inner music a voice. I wanted to be able to sit down with a guitar and create new music someday. I wanted to learn how to improvise. And that is how I learned - through exploration and improvisation. Every time I play an instrument I play new things. I rarely play the same thing twice. In the long run, I think my approach has served me well, from a creativity standpoint. But it meant that I was useless when people wanted to sit around a campfire and sing songs.
I have a side job as an Accompanist for Modern dance classes in dance schools. I work in tandem with a dance teacher. She creates dance exercises for her students, and I improvise rhythms that will work for her exercise. She quickly runs through her exercise, and then gives me a tempo to play at. She always changes them on the fly. There is often no way for me to know what to play until the moment actually arrives. My rhythms are guided by the dancer’s movements. It is another complex feedback system, and it is a beautiful thing to be part of.
My sense of humour is completely contextual and improvised. I don’t remember jokes. I react to situations in the moment. Once again, I depend upon intuition and creativity.
I suspect that my poor memory is partly to blame for this attraction toward improvisation (versus memorization). But maybe this weakness has encouraged another strength?
In the words of Homer Simpson, “Jazz?… bah… they just make it up as they go along!”
I have no idea of what I might play. This sort of situation might many people very anxious. It makes me a little bit anxious, but not very. I have slowly learned that I can trust myself. I know that if I allow myself to relax, ideas will present themselves in the moment. They have before. they will again.
Live improvisation is potentially magical and powerful, because it is essentially "invention" and "composition" - in the moment. It forces us to be very aware, and to utilize (and depend on) our intuition. When the audience knows that improvisation is taking place, they go along for the ride too… not knowing what might happen next. The audience's energy helps direct the performance. Improvisation performance is a somewhat courageous thing to do, because there is always a risk of failure. It is a form of “living on the edge”. But as any Jazz fan knows, there is also a chance of being part of something amazing.
The skills needed in improvisation - being fully present in the present moment - being very here, right now - these are the same skills that are developed in the practice of Zen Buddhism. So I guess it makes sense that I’m drawn to both of these things.
So when I begin to play next Saturday evening, I will play one note. And that one “seed” note will decide my path to the next note, and so on. It will grow into something new… something I have never heard before. The first note will reverberate in the performance space in a unique way. The room will have a unique quality of echo and reverberation - dependent on every object in the space, and upon the humidity of the air, and countless other factors. That first note reverberating in the space will have a resonant frequency - a musical note. I will be drawn to that note because of the way it vibrates louder than the other harmonics. Every room has it’s own voice, and we can find each room's voice by making sounds - and listening intently. I believe that we do this subconsciously when we speak.
My musical choices that evening will be guided by the room sound, and also by the ways that the dancers respond to my previous notes and sounds. Also, by the way the audience reacts to our overall performance. And also by my inner mood that moment. And by every musical experience I have ever had. It is a complex interdependent whole, shifting through time. When I play, I am aware of all of these things at play.
Daniel Lanois released a DVD last year called “Here Is What Is”. In it there is a clip of Brian Eno saying how he would like the public to know that: “beautiful things grow out of shit. Because, nobody ever believes that. You know, everyone thinks that Beethoven had his string quartets completely in his head. They somehow appeared there and formed in his head and all he had to do was write them down and they would kind of be manifest to the world. But I think that what’s so interesting and what would really be a lesson that everybody should learn is that things come out of nothing. Things evolve out of nothing. You know, the tiniest seed in the right situation turns into the most beautiful forest.”
When I first learned to play guitar I just wanted to learn how to tune it properly, how to play notes, and how to form chords on the fretboard. I didn’t want to learn how to play anyone else’s music. I didn’t want anyone else’s style to influence my own too much. I wanted to develop my own style. I didn’t even want to know the names of the chords I learned. There was music playing in my head already … music that I knew that I was imagining. I wanted to give that inner music a voice. I wanted to be able to sit down with a guitar and create new music someday. I wanted to learn how to improvise. And that is how I learned - through exploration and improvisation. Every time I play an instrument I play new things. I rarely play the same thing twice. In the long run, I think my approach has served me well, from a creativity standpoint. But it meant that I was useless when people wanted to sit around a campfire and sing songs.
I have a side job as an Accompanist for Modern dance classes in dance schools. I work in tandem with a dance teacher. She creates dance exercises for her students, and I improvise rhythms that will work for her exercise. She quickly runs through her exercise, and then gives me a tempo to play at. She always changes them on the fly. There is often no way for me to know what to play until the moment actually arrives. My rhythms are guided by the dancer’s movements. It is another complex feedback system, and it is a beautiful thing to be part of.
My sense of humour is completely contextual and improvised. I don’t remember jokes. I react to situations in the moment. Once again, I depend upon intuition and creativity.
I suspect that my poor memory is partly to blame for this attraction toward improvisation (versus memorization). But maybe this weakness has encouraged another strength?
In the words of Homer Simpson, “Jazz?… bah… they just make it up as they go along!”
p.s.
The above photo is one that I took in my back yard, of an avocado seed in a glass of water.
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