We’re now three weeks out from Fluid Fracture. Last weekend’s rehearsal was a bit of relief. Things are now officially starting to sound like music and I can relax a bit knowing that we’re going to be fine with the time we have left.
Last night I was fortunate enough to catch the Beach House show at Liberty Hall. It was a fantastic show and I think it might be my favorite show this year. I was thinking about the steps that took place to get me to buy a ticket and drive to Lawrence. I’m astounded at how many unlikely things have to go right. This band earned my fandom the hard way.
1. I had never heard of them but stumbled upon them in itunes.
2. I enjoyed the 30 second previews on a couple of their songs enough to actually buy the album.
3. After buying the album I actually enjoyed it and develop an emotional attachment to their music.
4. They came to the Kansas City area before the quality of their music started to decline and I lost interest.
Each one of those steps is highly improbable and none of them can be skipped.
Last night’s performance also got me thinking about improvisation. More exactly, how there was none at all. They played every song exactly the same as their recordings and I completely loved it. So how important could improvisation actually be? A lot of jazz musicians seem to revere improvisation and talk about it like it’s a moral concern, like music is inherently better or more “vital” because it is improvised. This is obviously bullshit. The atmosphere last night was absolutely electric and I knew exactly what was going to happen during every song. The element of surprise is apparently incredibly overrated in producing a profound musical experience. As a composer this is fascinating. In my own writing I start to wonder if I’m putting in improvised solos just out of habit or if they’re really necessary for the story I’m trying to tell? Why am I giving myself a solo?
Improvising on a high level is obviously one of the most interesting and difficult things to do as a player. But I’m reminded of something an older cello player told me when I was in high school: “Nobody improvises as well as a composer can compose.” Maybe he was right.
As someone who composes a lot, I've spent way too much time thinking about this. I've been studying with Ralph Alessi and he is really into the idea that all of the REALLY good shit comes from improvisation. If it's done right, improvisation should be risky! I doesn't always pay off but when it does the reward is much greater.
I've taken something else from this point. Some composers write really specific material for everyone while others leave more room for players to do what they hear. Most of the time, the music where there is more space is just as good, if not better. In other words, if you set up a scenario where everyone is allowed to trust their instincts and be themselves, the music will sound as good or better then what you would have written.
Here's a good example. A few months ago, John Hollenbeck put out a record that features poetry and singing called "What is the Beautiful?" that I'm obsessed with. John Hollenbeck composes as much as any jazz composer on the scene right now. Almost every single detail on this record feels written composed. It's a really incredible record. Right as I was getting into it, I had the chance to see Ralph Alessi's band Modular Theater which also features poetry except that in this group almost everything is improvised. They are playing compositions but everything is fair game and it was just as interesting as the music that was completley composed. What made it even more interesting was the fact that if you heard the group the next night, all of those tunes would sound completely different.
Of course, this only really works if you are playing with the right musicians. When you are playing with real creative improvisers who are willing to let everything go and take the music to different places, that's when the music benefits from improvisation. If you aren't playing with those people, then improvisation doesn't do that much for anybody.
I'm not sure if any of what I am saying makes any sense. Don't get the impression that I have any of this figured out at all. I've been spending a lot of time thinking about this lately and had some thoughts to share. Thanks for playing creative music in KC! Hopefully someday I can come back and be a part of your organization!
-Drew Williams
Posted by: Drew Williams | 07/11/2012 at 11:10 PM
I think what draws people is the familiarity. fans respect and follow new and interesting bands as much as they a new and exciting composer. There is a comfort in knowing what's coming next. I was at that show as well, and for being someone who may have heard their music only a handful more times than you, I also noticed that they sounded a lot like the recorded material. They seemed to pride themselves on the fact that they could re create the album and allow a. very subtle space for embellishment. I'd say it was a great show minus the fact that all of their songs were on the same key and the lead singer was pretty stoic. If they could play like they did on the encore, then I'd probably want to see them again.
Posted by: Ashley | 07/12/2012 at 09:00 AM
All music begins as improvised music. The false idol might be composition.
Posted by: Joe Klopus | 07/18/2012 at 05:13 PM
i think its more imposition than comprovisation.
Posted by: russell | 07/18/2012 at 10:26 PM