FREE IMPROVISATION
AND ITS PLACE WITHIN CONTEMPORARY COMPOSITION
I’d like to shine a little spotlight on a compositional practice which in my opinion still has a great unused potential in the genre of contemporary music. I’m talking about the musical situation in which the composer yields full control over the significant portion of the material, without any guidelines and trusting only the performer's taste.
This is somewhat similar and yet fundamentally different from the partially free scores which have been well featured ever since the 1960s. These include aleatoric and “open form” structure, graphic or verbal scores, free choice of certain parameters while determining the others and many more variants of “partial freedom”
Before we go on, maybe it would be a good idea to define what even is meant by “freedom”?
Around the same time the experimental composition began to gain traction, we also had the development of the musical genre somewhat clumsily named “free improvisation”; even though I prefer the more recent term “non-idiomatic improvisation” (to avoid the misunderstanding of “freedom” implying “to do whatever you want without respect to your surroundings”). In this context, I understand the word “free” to have a similar meaning as when we speak of the “sugar-free drinks”. As in: drinks which are free from sugar; and not: drinks which you’re free to put sugar into.
Non-idiomatic improvisation is rarely being taught at the classical music conservatories (although there have been some significant improvements here lately), but there are many workshops being held outside the “academia” with the goal to introduce both the professional and amateur musicians to this genre. Freeing oneself from the pre-acquired idioms is the only way to find some common ground and have musicians from many different backgrounds (classical, jazz, punk, metal etc) be able to create something together. The most common “idioms” to free oneself from include jazzy licks and chords, regular drum-set grooves, and many other common and simple patterns we are conditioned to hear and think throughout our daily lives. The introduction of such idioms into the collective improvisation quickly hijacks the music and imposes a certain style that the others are then forced to accept, even though they might not be familiar with it. And the other option, simply doing what you do and playing “next to each other” instead of “together” has never been particularly interesting to listen to (which is putting it mildly). The common ground is found only when the idioms are gone, leaving behind the much more organic ecosystem of irregular sounds, noises, natural harmonies etc. closer to the rich sonic landscape of the world itself. So, in a way, the “lack of idiom” has itself become an “idiom” and the “free improvisation” has since grown into a musical genre on its own, with its own unwritten rules and certain recognizable styles and sub-genres, not unlike the styles of today's contemporary written music; and there is an increasing number of composers and performers, myself included, who, as active followers and participants of this scene, are trying to find ways to bring the musical composition and free improvisation together.
The extent of “full freedom” of the “freely improvised” parts within a written composition might still be questionable, since the aesthetical choices of the improvisation would inevitably be influenced by whatever “idiom” the corresponding composed parts adhere to; which again is nothing new.
It’s important to remember that the improvisation has existed and grown alongside written music for most of its history, whether we think of the cadenza in the pre-romantic instrumental concerto or even the partimento, the practice of free improvisation upon the given bass line which was widespread during the baroque era in Italy, and was still kept alive and taught at the Paris conservatory for well into the XIX century. Still (just as I wrote in my previous post about the dynamics), the romantic era brought many changes upon the role of the classical musician; and improvisation gradually lost its place within the canon, becoming increasingly unwanted and frowned upon; as it was very well summarized in this quote by Derek Bailey, from his seminal book “Improvisation. Its nature and practice in music”:
“It is undeniable that for many musicians, performing music is a matter of being a highly skilled executant in a well-rehearsed ensemble, and it is also true that this role has its satisfactions. But it does seem that to be trained solely for that role is probably the worst possible preparation for improvisation. And the biggest handicap inflicted by that training is the instilling of a deeply reverential attitude towards the creation of music, an attitude which unquestioningly accepts the physical and hierarchical separation of playing and creating. From this stems the view of improvisation as a frivolous or even a sacrilegious activity.”
Therefore I’m not inclined to blame the composers for not allowing more improvisation; if they saw more musicians actually actively practicing improvisation, they would have more insight into their aesthetic and sound, making it easier to trust them with improvised parts in their pieces. In the modern literature for trumpet, a positive example was set by Markus Stockhausen, trailblazing the way for the rest of us. An accomplished improviser throughout his career, he has inspired a number of composers who wrote for him to include entirely freely improvised sections within the compositions they’ve written for him (such as “other presences” by Jonathan Harvey, and the free cadenza in the trumpet concerto “Jet Stream” by Peter Eotvos).
Speaking of cadenzas: those pre-romantic concertos are still being tirelessly performed by students and professionals throughout the world; very often using some “canned” cadenzas that came printed in the score. In the best case scenario, the more advanced classical musicians would prepare/compose their own cadenza, write them down and memorize them along with the rest of the concerto; to be repeated in that same form until they write a new one. It’s hard not to imagine Bach, Mozart and other amazing improvisers of their time (because that’s what they also were, not just composers) collectively rolling in their graves at our hopeless ineptitude and inability to improvise even when we’re specifically expected to.
Being subjected to free improvisation for almost as long as I play music (and long before I was even aware that it existed as a genre); I always considered it a normal and necessary part of being any kind of a musician, I firmly believe that it must regain its place in the classical music education. This effort to “bring improvisation back” is something I consider to be one of the central tasks in my career; especially since becoming a professor at the music academy; seeing as how you might easily consider professors of classical music institutions to be the main culprits in maintaining the aforementioned status quo and deliberately steering generations of young musicians away from what was once an integral part of music making.
But to come back to the main subject: hoping to encourage and inspire composers, I would like to showcase two works I was involved with, both of which I consider to be good examples of the successful incorporation of free improvisation within the context of a musical composition.
First up, an ensemble piece "Nasreddin" by Cenk Ergün.
This is a second version of this composition (originally written for Fred Frith), commisioned in 2011 by the Ensemble Laboratorium; and it involved an ensemble divided into two groups: a septet playing precisely written music from the score as well as a freely improvising trio.
The “Feldmanesque” ensemble part is not conducted, instead the instrumental parts are interwoven by diagonal lines, with the instruments connecting their entrances to a previous action of another player, creating a web of counterpoints throughout the score. The improvisers are playing alongside, blending in as ensemble members (it was not any sort of "concerto grosso", all 10 parts had an equal importance). This was essentially the only instruction for the improvising trio; all other decisions were yielded to ourselves.
This is somewhat similar and yet fundamentally different from the partially free scores which have been well featured ever since the 1960s. These include aleatoric and “open form” structure, graphic or verbal scores, free choice of certain parameters while determining the others and many more variants of “partial freedom”
Before we go on, maybe it would be a good idea to define what even is meant by “freedom”?
Around the same time the experimental composition began to gain traction, we also had the development of the musical genre somewhat clumsily named “free improvisation”; even though I prefer the more recent term “non-idiomatic improvisation” (to avoid the misunderstanding of “freedom” implying “to do whatever you want without respect to your surroundings”). In this context, I understand the word “free” to have a similar meaning as when we speak of the “sugar-free drinks”. As in: drinks which are free from sugar; and not: drinks which you’re free to put sugar into.
Non-idiomatic improvisation is rarely being taught at the classical music conservatories (although there have been some significant improvements here lately), but there are many workshops being held outside the “academia” with the goal to introduce both the professional and amateur musicians to this genre. Freeing oneself from the pre-acquired idioms is the only way to find some common ground and have musicians from many different backgrounds (classical, jazz, punk, metal etc) be able to create something together. The most common “idioms” to free oneself from include jazzy licks and chords, regular drum-set grooves, and many other common and simple patterns we are conditioned to hear and think throughout our daily lives. The introduction of such idioms into the collective improvisation quickly hijacks the music and imposes a certain style that the others are then forced to accept, even though they might not be familiar with it. And the other option, simply doing what you do and playing “next to each other” instead of “together” has never been particularly interesting to listen to (which is putting it mildly). The common ground is found only when the idioms are gone, leaving behind the much more organic ecosystem of irregular sounds, noises, natural harmonies etc. closer to the rich sonic landscape of the world itself. So, in a way, the “lack of idiom” has itself become an “idiom” and the “free improvisation” has since grown into a musical genre on its own, with its own unwritten rules and certain recognizable styles and sub-genres, not unlike the styles of today's contemporary written music; and there is an increasing number of composers and performers, myself included, who, as active followers and participants of this scene, are trying to find ways to bring the musical composition and free improvisation together.
The extent of “full freedom” of the “freely improvised” parts within a written composition might still be questionable, since the aesthetical choices of the improvisation would inevitably be influenced by whatever “idiom” the corresponding composed parts adhere to; which again is nothing new.
It’s important to remember that the improvisation has existed and grown alongside written music for most of its history, whether we think of the cadenza in the pre-romantic instrumental concerto or even the partimento, the practice of free improvisation upon the given bass line which was widespread during the baroque era in Italy, and was still kept alive and taught at the Paris conservatory for well into the XIX century. Still (just as I wrote in my previous post about the dynamics), the romantic era brought many changes upon the role of the classical musician; and improvisation gradually lost its place within the canon, becoming increasingly unwanted and frowned upon; as it was very well summarized in this quote by Derek Bailey, from his seminal book “Improvisation. Its nature and practice in music”:
“It is undeniable that for many musicians, performing music is a matter of being a highly skilled executant in a well-rehearsed ensemble, and it is also true that this role has its satisfactions. But it does seem that to be trained solely for that role is probably the worst possible preparation for improvisation. And the biggest handicap inflicted by that training is the instilling of a deeply reverential attitude towards the creation of music, an attitude which unquestioningly accepts the physical and hierarchical separation of playing and creating. From this stems the view of improvisation as a frivolous or even a sacrilegious activity.”
Therefore I’m not inclined to blame the composers for not allowing more improvisation; if they saw more musicians actually actively practicing improvisation, they would have more insight into their aesthetic and sound, making it easier to trust them with improvised parts in their pieces. In the modern literature for trumpet, a positive example was set by Markus Stockhausen, trailblazing the way for the rest of us. An accomplished improviser throughout his career, he has inspired a number of composers who wrote for him to include entirely freely improvised sections within the compositions they’ve written for him (such as “other presences” by Jonathan Harvey, and the free cadenza in the trumpet concerto “Jet Stream” by Peter Eotvos).
Speaking of cadenzas: those pre-romantic concertos are still being tirelessly performed by students and professionals throughout the world; very often using some “canned” cadenzas that came printed in the score. In the best case scenario, the more advanced classical musicians would prepare/compose their own cadenza, write them down and memorize them along with the rest of the concerto; to be repeated in that same form until they write a new one. It’s hard not to imagine Bach, Mozart and other amazing improvisers of their time (because that’s what they also were, not just composers) collectively rolling in their graves at our hopeless ineptitude and inability to improvise even when we’re specifically expected to.
Being subjected to free improvisation for almost as long as I play music (and long before I was even aware that it existed as a genre); I always considered it a normal and necessary part of being any kind of a musician, I firmly believe that it must regain its place in the classical music education. This effort to “bring improvisation back” is something I consider to be one of the central tasks in my career; especially since becoming a professor at the music academy; seeing as how you might easily consider professors of classical music institutions to be the main culprits in maintaining the aforementioned status quo and deliberately steering generations of young musicians away from what was once an integral part of music making.
But to come back to the main subject: hoping to encourage and inspire composers, I would like to showcase two works I was involved with, both of which I consider to be good examples of the successful incorporation of free improvisation within the context of a musical composition.
First up, an ensemble piece "Nasreddin" by Cenk Ergün.
This is a second version of this composition (originally written for Fred Frith), commisioned in 2011 by the Ensemble Laboratorium; and it involved an ensemble divided into two groups: a septet playing precisely written music from the score as well as a freely improvising trio.
The “Feldmanesque” ensemble part is not conducted, instead the instrumental parts are interwoven by diagonal lines, with the instruments connecting their entrances to a previous action of another player, creating a web of counterpoints throughout the score. The improvisers are playing alongside, blending in as ensemble members (it was not any sort of "concerto grosso", all 10 parts had an equal importance). This was essentially the only instruction for the improvising trio; all other decisions were yielded to ourselves.
That was an example of an improvised part lasting throughout the entire piece. As a contrast to that I'd like to present "pauk", a duo for trumpet and accordion by Richard Barrett; which employs free improvisation in an entirely different manner: in brief few-second long cuts dispersed throughout the otherwise extremely densely notated score. This duo is a part of a hour-long composition "Close-up" for 6 musicians, which the composer developed over several years in collaboration with the ensemble Studio 6. Free improvisation is treated in various interesting ways throughout each section of this work. The score is available for free via Richard's website, but I will also quote a paragraph from the performance notes here:
"Pauk consists of five numbered sections which are played without a break. Sections 2, 4 and 5 involve improvisation as well as notated music. More detailed instructions for the realisation of these sections is to be found at the appropriate places in the score.
The sign ∞ is used to indicate free improvisation. The horizontal extent of a ∞ segment is not intended to reflect its relative duration. In sections 2 and 4 this is completely open, subject to the suggestion that the total duration of improvised and notated material should be approximately equal for each instrument (section 2) or for the duo (section 4). In section 5, the improvisation is intended to take place within the framework of the notated music’s metrical structure. What happens in the improvisations is completely unspecified. It is intended that the surrounding notated music should “influence” the improvised music without in any way attempting to determine it, causing the improvisations to be different from what might happen in the absence of notated elements but without defining in advance what those differences might be. Thus, the presence or absence of particular materials or techniques (or processes, as for example in the dynamics of section 5) in the notated part of an improvisatory section are not intended to determine those used in the improvisations. No material or interrelationship is to be thought of a priori as necessarily inappropriate or appropriate for the improvisations, although performers may wish to consider how (in)coherent they intend the result to be"