Expanded...Labels?

During last class, the wrap up discussion of our attempts at improvisation at Choga surprised, and frankly, slightly disturbed me. In a class that I am taking with an amazing ethnographer, we are pushed to "get even MORE curious" about situations and worldviews that we encounter which differ vastly from our own.  Within these spaces for exchange, a true opportunity for verstehen (understanding) resides.

With my own quest for verstehen in mind, I want to interrogate our notions of labels:

Expanded Music through Improvisation: Does this require us to treat all of our improvisations in this class as Avant Garde?  I don't believe that playing angular, jagged lines makes me any more insightful or profound.  I worked deliberately toward constructing coherence in the improvisational piece with my colleagues, and I valued the experience greatly.  I was experiencing a constellation of very different approaches to feel, comping styles, and how individuals lay on the beat than what I'm used to within a strict genre. This was very instructive, and I stand by my choices to gravitate toward coherence.  Keith Jarrette is a very cohesive improviser.  His stuff straddles and blurs all kinds of boundaries between jazz and classical, but it still coheres.  I admire his playing greatly.

Saxophone: Does the presence of a saxophone imply a certain expectation that what is being played is jazz?  To me, the presence of some sort of groove-based improvisation does not make it default to being jazz.  Jazz improvisation (often) follows a very clearly delineated (and often complex) chord structure.  Are saxophones expected to always function as a melodic instrument, loud and commanding?  I am primarily a classical player (not that anyone accepts that label from a saxophonist, either), and do not aspire to sound like John Zorn or Ornette Coleman.  I know I was concerned about playing too intensely for the size of the room in Choga.   

Smooth Jazz: This label has many implications, some of which are perceived as derogatory in certain circles.  Smooth jazz is characterized by funky, slap basslines, wah-wah guitar, and commercial-sounding melodies largely restricted to a pentatonic or blues scale from bright, loud horn lines (typically trumpet or saxophone).  I wonder what experiences have led one of my classmates to categorize our efforts as "smooth jazz"?  

Process versus Product in Improvisation: Christopher Small notes a stark difference between Western and Eastern musics.  Western music is often intensely goal-oriented and dependent upon some sort of positionality in time.  For example, if it's a Mozart piece, we can track the beginning, development, and the end, which is often marked by a lot of V-I movement.  In music from Bali and other Eastern cultures, the music conspires to prolong and accentuate the present state.  It doesn't try to build momentum to a defined end.  Westerners' obsession with time is a social construction.  (This is especially difficult to navigate in my household sometimes! My husband's family [from India] takes a much more laissez-faire approach to time than my family does).    
 
Based upon the critique of my group's improvisation, I came away feeling subjected to a specific paradigm of boundaries or expectations that had been imposed after the fact.  This felt really arbitrary to me. These had not, to my knowledge, been previously expressed as parameters toward the improvisation exercise that we should have been aspiring to.  I am especially concerned for my colleagues who already don't feel comfortable improvising in any way, and believe that we should be mindful of different views on labels in how we frame our critiques.   

Improvisation and Illustration

I have been a fan of Bill Frisell for a long time.  His improvisations and compositions astonish me when they begin with complex harmonies and angular lines that gradually come into focus, culminating in a melody that I eventually recognize as a jazz standard or a piece of Americana.  He channels Ives and Copland as easily as he references Charlie Parker and John Lennon, or somehow, all of the above, simultaneously.  Everything he does is a ridiculously elaborate development section that gradually and meticulously reveals the exposition at the end.   

My husband and I have followed his career for a very long time now, and we see him live every chance we get.  We were fortunate to see him do a live collaboration with illustrator Jim Woodring.  The music rises to create scenes and landscapes to breathe life into drawings that venture into the macabre. 

Frisell is a very quiet, introspective genius, and I appreciate his innovative approach.  I have never heard more complex chord progressions, and his genuine, introverted nature appeals to me, even as critics don't always now what to make of him.

Dr. Gilbert's film screening at Choga, with its use of original music to pair with imagery, reminded me of this Bill Frisell performance.  I thought it would be fun to share this with the class.

Expanded Classroom

My time at NYU has been such a profound experience so far. After being out of school for 10 years, it is a joy to learn again, but in a very different way than before. The rigidity of my previous educational experiences have molded me into a rigid, inflexible state.  This time around in school, I feel as if I am awakening to see a very different world as it stands in front of me (well, at least as I see it!). Now, all kinds of boundaries are blurred in places where I've actively sought to maintain them, and I'm growing, despite my fears of blowing the doors off of my comfort zone!

When I arrived at Choga on Tuesday night, I was, frankly, exhausted and cranky.  I had been hosting a conference all day, and was tired and sore from moving timpani, chairs, music stands, and every other kind of equipment between buildings.  On my quest for a PhD, some days have been remarkably harder than others, and this was one of them.  I wasn't sure what to expect.

I've never walked into a class to experience an elaborate spread of artfully prepared food at the ready.  I was touched by the chef and staff's nurturing nature; they insisted that we try so many things (which were amazing), and take home the leftovers. I am especially touched by Dr. Gilbert's incredible hospitality and acumen for creating community.  There truly is nothing like sharing a meal together.  I got to know my classmates on a deeper level, and they are fun, fascinating, accomplished people.

I had such a great time jamming with my classmates, too.  I haven't been able to seriously engage with my saxophone in a very long time, due to the rigorous demands of my coursework.  Even though I almost never like what comes out of my instrument in an improvisatory exercise, I tried to let loose and focus more on the process than the product.  I'm striving to push through my own limitations here.

As I was leaving Choga and walking toward the train, my spirit felt so much lighter: transformed.  This night was a gift.  It is easy to forget about creativity and artistry in my current efforts to make it through each day right now, and I have compartmentalized that part of myself very effectively in this endeavor.  But you can lose something important of yourself in that process, too.  I haven't had a day off since August- and a deep fatigue is settling in.  Somehow, returning to that artistic side of me, and this HUMAN side of musicking with others, even just for 20 minutes, was profoundly restorative.  Perhaps this is the greatest lesson of all this year.

This is how you know the food is good