Friday, November 14, 2014

Some notes on improvisation



Over the past 6 or so years I've been exploring the cello away from the civilization of the printed page. When I started this process I had 25+ years of experience with only playing what was laid in front of me on paper, unless I memorized it or recited scales. To step into this new world away from the written note I watched jazz musicians, asked questions, jumped in when I was uncomfortable, made mistakes, over played, under played, sometimes cried, and occasionally felt the magic in the air created when people are spontaneously having a conversation in the language of music. 

I learned so much about the structure and rules of music that I had never known when I was limited to just reading single notes of the cello line. I heard keys, form, accidentals, transpositions, chord changes, and musical structure now in what felt like 3D. I understood the importance of simplicity and listening to the emotional direction of a group. I loved the lessons I was learning about speaking up, learning to use my voice, trusting myself, and that my contribution was not just welcome but good. 

After learning a few rules and saying yes to every improvisation opportunity that came my way, I've been lucky enough to have jam sessions with guitarists, serenaded yoga classes, accompanied kirtan sessions, opened the night at a bar with a singer songwriter, frolicked with a Celtic band, and even improvised to an aerial dance piece at the Rose Wagner Black Box Theater.

Along with my own experience in this new genre, I've been collecting ideas, games, and stories from other teachers who bring their students down this same path. Acknowledgement here with a deep and abiding gratitude to Alice Kanack, David Darling, Renata Bratt, and Sera Smolen. For the past 9 months I've been bringing all of my understanding together with the lessons and games of these national teachers to my studio. 

To be completely honest, I don't know exactly what you will hear on our 11/22 improvisation section at the end of our solo recital, and that is part of the beauty of it.

What I do know is that over the past 9 months I've seen from every single student: 
* wide eyed raised eyebrow quiet stare as I ask them to make stuff up for the first time.
* breathing return to normal as they realize they can do it. 
* intensive listening to the musical heartbeat we are all matching.
* quiet and attentive respect, understanding when it is someone else's turn to speak and when it will be theirs. 
* pride as they see themselves creating new patterns, adding complexity, or meshing with the group beyond what they expected. 
* smiles all around as we finish, congratulate and thank each other for sharing. 

I'm very much looking forward to whatever 11/22 holds. It may be a little messy sometimes, it may seem extraordinarily simple, it may be beautiful. It's an experiment - it may blow up or it may fly and we are here to experience it either way. Thanks for joining our journey. 

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