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.