He he, I like your thoughts Christopher about when to stay silent and I guess that goes some distance into the test of knowing if something is too long or not as Martin asked.

The only test is the feeling inside, whether that counts as you the performer or the audience member. On another note, its funny how sometimes say a Beethoven symphony is covered with coughs from the audience throughout.... isthis because the audience just so happened to have contracted sore throats? OR, is it because of the way the music is being played.... sometimes that can be the test of a great performance... the way the audience listen... or don't as the case maybe. Rarely do I go captivated through the journey of an entire performance, but when I do, I know its been untouchable and wonderful.... this is that test that Martin is asking about... I think....

:) DB

This idea of two types of improvisation is interesting. I think it links into that John Cage quote which I, also, entirely disagree with. I also think that improvisation is more about process than performance. It is an experience, an activity, that is important and exists away from a performance context. And I think it is rarely especially interesting when done by a single performer (unless that performer is a truly brilliant improviser).

Improvisation, whether in music any other performance medium (or perhaps even in life) is entirely about the act of being truthfully in the moment. I don't think you require a thorough knowledge of musical theory, structure and counterpoint. I think you require an ability to deeply listen and respond. All that musical theory etc is fantastic. If you have it it can make your responses more subtle, exciting and provocative. But equally it can get in the way unless it is deeply subsumed into the psyche rather than something that you are consciously thinking about. This, I think, is why John Cage talks about regurgitating things we already know. That isn't real improvisation. It's lazy or cowardly or both. In the vast majority of cases, some already-known pattern or sequence of notes (or 'lick' if you're in the jazz world) is not going to be the right response to what is happening in at a given moment. How can it be? It either comes from an inability or fear of putting aside what you know how to do. Or an over-emphasis on performance. Because the performer feels safer doing something they know sounds impressive to an audience than doing something they have no idea what it will be.

That is exactly why improvisation is vulnerable and exposing. I'm a theatre director (and amateur musician) and I've done a lot of work with classical musicians improvising using theatrical techniques. It's a problem you run into again and again. But in the rare times where improvisations actually do work it is incredibly exciting. Because it becomes a dialogue, a development of ideas that anyone who is watching will immediately become part of and be able to follow. And because it is a rare moment where what you see is not polished and protected behind layers of varnish but vulnerable and deeply involves the personalities and relationships of the performers.

As to the question of when to be quiet: well in a sense I think it's quite simple. You play when you have something to say that is relevant to the conversation, while you are not repeating yourself and as long as you are still able to hear how everyone else is responding to it. And as soon as one of those is not true (ie you've said this particular idea, you have lost track of other people's response to it, or the conversation has moved on somewhere else) you stop! The practice of that is an entirely different thing. But that is exactly why I think improvisation is a process far before it should be a performance. It is not about technical skill and virtuosity. It's about learning to communicate and open up (with yourself and your instrument, with your other performers, with your audience, possibly with sounds from outside!)

Sorry if that is repetetive or pretentious! I find these things hard to express but very interesting to discuss

I totally agree about finding these things hard to express and put into words... which is why I find them so interesting.... :) One comment I'd like to make is that all of the things we are talking about is about putting each other and yourself outside of your comfort zone.... and the amazing thing is the audiences smell the danger, they smell the blood and that is what makes these things so exciting. Pushing the limits .... doing things that have NEVER been done before.

RPB29- I'd love you to come and sit in and work on some of the projects that I'm involved in, particuarly my all improvisation quartet of trombone, viola, flute and piano. All I can promise you is that we have fun every time we meet! :)

rpb29 - this is really intriguing.

i throw out these questions:

- can a classically-orientated performer mesh or blend pre-prepared pieces of music with free improvisational techniques? if so, how?

- how do we bring that 'active listening', that excitement of the unknown, hanging on the edge not knowing what is about to happen.... how do we bring that back into music that is already written and prepared in advance?

Re  the question from the previous post - 'how do we bring that 'active listening', that excitement of the unknown, hanging on the edge not knowing what is about to happen.... how do we bring that back into music that is already written and prepared in advance?' Here are some thoughts from concert pianist Byron Janis:

'Thinking is creativity's worst enemy. When I first sight-read a score, everything seems so right, so natural. The notes seem to be playing themselves and the music flows. Why? Because I am not thinking. Inspiration has been my guide—the adventure of a first time. Then comes familiarization, the learning process where, until the piece is well in hand, thinking is allowed. After that, interpretation—choices must be made, but you are finally free to feel and use your creative instincts. And, at last, creation—how do I make the music sound as it did when I didn't know it? The great poet Yeats spoke of this dilemma so beautifully in his poem "Adam's Curse":

 

Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought,

Our stitching and unstitching has been naught.

 Before the heart can remember, the mind must forget. And, when I least expect to, I will suddenly start playing that piece, again without thinking, as I did in the beginning when I first sight-read it. That is when it happens—I have finally discovered my "moment's thought."

 

For the next few days on BBC iplayer, some percussion improvisation captured in a remarkable, live performance of Gershwin's Porgy and Bess: remarkable not only musically, but because it is conducted by Nikolaus Harnoncourt. Perhaps an inverse equivalent would be Johnny Dankworth conducting a Bach Cantata. Incidentally, the performance was in celebration of Harnoncourt's eightieth birthday.

As dawn breaks in Catfish Row in the final scene of the opera, the percussion section builds a collage of sound as the community gradually awakens, reinstating Gershwin's instructions at the first performance. Sounds as if the percussion section of the Chamber Orchestra of Europe had a lot of fun...
 

The scene starts at about 3:9.16, with the percussionists let loose from about 3:10.30 until 3:14.37.