I’m pleased to have Kevin Jacoby as a guest writer again for his “The Art of Improv” series. Be sure to read part 1 as well. I admire KJ as an entrepreneur, musician, writer, and friend, so I’m extremely happy to have him offer this second part on the subject of music and improv. Read and “listen”.
A new musician is the very definition of irony. After all the time and money spent preparing for a journey through the world of music, the one thing that flies out the window is the ability to listen.
The reason is simple of course: in order to become proficient at an instrument you have to get your hands moving just the right way. And since this is a herculean task, as a new player you focus all your energy on the physical aspect of playing.
This is the right thing to do, of course. If you can’t drive the car, there’s no reason to plan a trip. But too many musicians forget that, once you get your fingers working, the next step is opening your ears. And, when we end up with an army of technical geniuses who can tap, slap and sweep contrapuntal harmony like Paganini himself but couldn’t find a groove if it bit them on the ass, the art of music takes a big hit.
The art of listening
Some of the best musical experiences of my life happened on stage with a group of people I knew intimately (in a musical sense). We would spend months on the road together. We would finish each other’s sentences. And when we got on stage, regular communication was no longer necessary – we were of one mind.
Great improv never happens in a vacuum. Those who close their ears to the music around them run out of ideas quickly. But listen carefully and you’ll find the endless inspiration you need to make magic. It also puts your solo in context which makes it a million times more pleasant for the audience.
Miles always had one ear on his horn and the other on that incredible rhythm section. Bill Evans’ thoughtful comp’ing alone was enough to inspire endless choruses of soulful, rhythmic and fresh melodies – something Miles was always happy to do once he got going.
So why don’t we?
The funny thing is, this should be the easiest thing in the world for us to do. But it isn’t. What we should all do in an improv situation is listen openly, play fewer notes and imbibe every thump of the groove like a thirsty person with a drop of water.
Instead, we fall into the trap of musical tunnel vision. Worried, perhaps, that we might embarrass ourselves in the spotlight, we mistakenly use it to illuminate a flurry of rapid, disjointed phrases that, were they to be sentences in a conversation, would have the audience looking at us like we just stepped off the turnip truck wearing a fuzzy bunny suit, smoking a fat Cuban stogie.
How to listen
Weird that you even need to think about this, right? You’ve been listening your whole life. And just when it matters most, you have to force conscious thought into a situation that should be completely fluid.
But that’s exactly what you have to do. As George Carlin said, sometimes to start a path you have to hold down the grass yourself at first.
Next time you get on that stage, have the courage to turn your back on the audience like Miles did. See the band. Truly hear what they’re playing. Appreciate their support in your moment of glory.
Then close your eyes, let all that’s happening wash over you, and play as part of the group, like the melody of an amazing song, floating above the harmony, but undeniably part of it.
Only then will you be ready to say something truly worth listening to.
7 thoughts on “The Art of Improv, Part 2: Listen”
I’m always amazed at the level of symbiosis the best musicians seem to achieve when they play together. Though I usually choose to surrender to the awe of the moment, rather than any deep analysis of it, it’s interesting to have a musician’s take on how it comes about.
The parallels to active listening in other spheres are also valuable, as the same kind of creative flow can be achieved when we take in the opinions and ideas of the talented people around us. The habitual approach seems to be to listen only to what we’re playing, figuratively-speaking, where as taking a moment to feel the vibrations of another’s creativity would aid our own all the more…
Thanks for setting the grey matter moving, Kevin and Stan!
I have nothing to add since I agree with you 100%, Steve.
Thanks for the great input and dialogue!
i appreciate your bringing Kevin’s concepts into the realm of creative life generally. was attempting to do something like that in my comment as well.
took a lot from this piece and from “part 1”. As a writer and composer there is a great deal to glean from this notion of courageously losing oneself in the moment, keeping one ear on the band and one ear on the melody evolving in the mind. it is the juggling. a negotiation, a juggling of all that is in the moment to effectively assert one’s own voice in the morass. your article rightly puts improv front and center in the creative process. peace
Thanks, Dan. What you say is true and is why the listening is so critical.
More than anything I love to dance. Then my body is the instrument. When I do it, I must close my eyes.
Then you have real BodyWisdom, my friend!
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