Individual Improvisation Exploration
Improvisation has been a long time coming for me. It has surprised
me, frustrated me, and at times let me touch the sublime. It has also
let me connect with others, gaining understand I might not have
otherwise had. It has given me insight into myself.
Personal Experiences with Improvisation
Being comfortable and competent when improvising is certainly a goal
of mine. Before coming to school, I got quite comfortable improvising
on the trumpet. I played with a quartet and it was part and parcel of
the gig. I never translated that expertise to other instruments,
however. Until now, I never tried improvising on percussion
instruments. In a group, however, with someone else's riffs to build
on, I feel safe and inspired. I hear their playing and get lost in
the shared creation, trading riffs and taking turns being “in
front.” The level of communication is amazing, given that it is
entirely non-verbal.
Improvising alone is another matter. This may be due to the fact that
alone, I usually play a pitched instrument. They seem to demand
melodies and harmonies from me. Drums, on the other hand, make no
such demands. Instead, they allow me to let go of that and play with
rhythm, accents, dynamics, meter, tempo and groove.
Still, playing together can sometimes have a downside. I discovered
this when my daughter came in and spontaneously started playing the
drums with me. I enjoy making music with my kids, and we don't do it
often enough, so I didn't stop her. When I was ready to end, but she
was not, it got frustrating, though. Her playing spoke to me about
her as much as her daily activities did. It was annoying,
enlightening, and fun all at the same time.
Referential vs.
Non-referential Improvisation
The difficulty of
“getting into it” with pitched instruments marked my experience
with referential improvisation, as well. I have to make is sound like
something. It's harder to force the music to conform to an
intellectual thought. When it's an emotion like anger, fear, or
sorrow, I may not want to dig deep enough to make myself feel that
way. Then the improvisation becomes an intellectual task, and I feel
disconnected with the music. That's something for me to work on.
Non-referential
improvisation was much easier. The sounds come from within, perhaps
from my unconscious mind. It presents ideas and I get to play with
them, shaping them like a child might playdough. An idea is created,
modified, and then I get to wipe it out and start over with something
else without having to care. Transience is celebrated.
Instrumental
vs. Vocal Improvisation
I played with a
few instruments: guitar, piano, and a small collection of hand drums.
Playing the guitar was the most difficult, perhaps because it is not
an instrument I have yet mastered. Still, itt was fun when I started
playing with various chords, strumming patterns and rhythms. Then my
lack of experience would rear its head and take me out of the groove.
The piano was similar, but I felt more confident with it, and was
able to create more passable results. I was certainly able to create
pieces more relaxing, and more majestic, on the piano. The drums were
just plain fun. My inner “jazz man” got to come out and play. It
occurred to me, after the fact, that there's no reason those fun
grooves can't come to play on the piano, as well.
Vocal
improvisation came easily. I found myself spontaneously adding
melodic vocal lines when improvising on guitar. Vocal improvisation
is not foreign to me at all. It is often the first instrument I turn
to when musical ideas for composition strike me, and I'm away from
paper, computer, or piano.
Improvising
Lyrics
Lyrics were quite
another matter. I often make up silly lyrics on the spot, to known
melodies, just to make my children laugh. We used to sing to each
other instead of talking, when doing chores around the house. “It's
time to clean your room, please. It's time to clean your room.” I
might sing, in an overly dramatic, operatic voice. “No, Daddy, it's
not. I need to eat my breakfast first,” or more often, “Do I have
to?,” they might reply, smiling. Putting myself on the spot, even
though I was alone, was more difficult. I couldn't think of much to
say about myself that wasn't critical. “John is a fat man, trying
to go to school,” and so on. Recognizing it, I immediately forced
more positive lyrics, “He's dedicated to his music, and helping
other people. He'll see this course to the end.” Perhaps I am too
aware of my shortcomings, and don't give myself enough credit for my
abilities.
Improvising on
the Self
That notion, how
do I reflect myself in improvisation, didn't start very well because
of those lyrics. It was hard to choose an instrument to represent my
real self, and my ideal self. In the end, I could only think of the
piano. A part of me would love to someday sit down at a bank of
synthesizers and improvise like Vangelis, but the piano is often
enough.
Sometimes, when I
hear other, more talented players in class, I feel jealous or
discouraged. They are so good! I feel like a pretender. There are
other times, however, when I'm pretty damn good. At those times, the
piano and I become one being, indistinct from each other. The
experience dwells in the spiritual and speaks of the sublime. But
that is not often.
Improvisation is a
spontaneous act of musical creation, and although I struggle with
certain aspects of it, I also revel in it. It makes me feel connected
to others, and can sometimes be a tool to tap into inner realms where
thought and creation exist in the same space and time.
