Author: allencole
Date: 2004-10-19 07:01
Okay, let me address this free improvisation thing in a separate post. I have attempted to make sense of Markus' reply to my post, and I will let the group evaluate it for themselves. I think that the post itself is a microcosm of free improv's basic problems.
Now, I'd like to point out a few examples where this line could take us. First, I'm glad that someone mentioned Jimmy Guiffre. He was involved in some experiments along these lines, and the results can be both heard and seen with materials available today. "The Train and the River" was performed on CBS's "The Sound of Jazz" in December 1957, and also at the Newport Jazz Festival. (the following summer?) Both can be had on video.
Markus will no doubt consider this a very primitive example, but I think that it helps to show the burdens that appear when we try to add flexibility to a piece's structure. Both performances involve a follow-the-leader situation in which one person sets up a groove and the others begin to build on it. Both of the performances are marked by caution, lest players find themselves drifting as the piece evolves. While grooves, licks, and even instruments change (Jimmy plays clarinet, tenor sax and bari sax), the dynamic level is pretty constant and a listener can just as likely become hypnotized as stimulated. (not unlike Brian Eno or Phillip Glass) Another characteristic is that there is a lot of repetition in the parts. The musicians' passions are restricted by the fact that they can't read each others minds, and to me this becomes more confining than a fake sheet.
Example #2 comes from my own town, although it's hardly a new concept. After all riffing and head arrangements go back a long way, and led to extremely energetic performances in groups like those of the Basie band in Kansas City.
In my town, we have an excellent Monday night big band composed of many of the city's top jazz players. No sheet music. Grooves start, tunes take form, countermelodies follow, and section players find their harmonies. A fascinating thing to behold at the intellectual level, but not all that exciting on an emotional level.
Why? Because--again--players can't read each others minds. Anything that they do has to be built step-by-step, drawn out because of the need of each player to decide who to follow, decide HOW to follow, move cautiously to avoid clashing, and to listen constantly for any changes to develop. This leads the group to keep a very low volume level, and a very consistent texture. Ostinatos, pedal point, and passacaglia form become the rule rather than the exception. Sensually, it is quite a nice experience...not unlike the bath of sound that you get from a string orchestra. But the process is made cumbersome by the need to link 14 or 15 non-telepathic minds, and only real chance for excitement is in individual soloists, who are often more restrained than fed by their accompaniment.
It is this restraint that makes me wary of the concept of free improvisation. When structure is minimal, players have to find a way to make up for it, and it seems to me that it leads us back to a more rigid solo vs. accompaniment situation.
In music where there is a standing structure (such as the 12-bar blues or 32-bar song), I think that individual players have more freedom to cut loose. With the form and chord structure to act as their guide, the musicians can be freer simultaneously and can better trust each other for solid backup as they push their individual envelopes. Roles are clearly defined, and this helps to automatically prevent the kind of clashes that free improvisors need to scan the horizon for. The Kansas City bands did marvelous group work thanks to established form, established roles, and a hierarchy of riff leaders.
Most attempts to get freer or more esoteric (including the ones cited above) seem to become a group of human bagpipes where each person takes a turn being the chanter while the others drone. When players try to be more independent in the absence of structure, there is often only a choice between cacophony and terminal hesitation--and more often than not, you get both.
Allen Cole
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