Firsts

Tomorrow, for the first time, the whole group I assembled is going to play together - for the first time, I'll hear my compositions played by eight people, two violonists and a violist included. For the first time, after this weekend, I'll have a recording in my hands, a recording of two of my own songs, written on the train from Bern to Basel and back.
I will have to deal with a recording engineer, microphones, the right places and seating arrangements, I will direct the whole thing musically and at the same time try to keep the whole bunch punctual, happy and more or less well-nourished.
And, for me the hardest thing of all, I'll have to will myself into a place where I'll feel self-confident enough to play what I can play, to see something in my head instead of just playing some "right notes" in my solos.
I know it takes a lot of experience, and maybe also a bit more looseness, to get at that point in an always rather stressful studio situation. I guess I'll get there someday. For tomorrow, I just hope I'll be so excited by the new sound that the music behind it will be stronger than my own nervousness. And if I'm not entirely happy by the result - well, then that's apparently what improvisers have to live with. There will always be a next time.
So, officially stated here: this weekend is about firsts - firsts are allowed not to be perfect. Let's see what I can get out of them!

A Day In The Life

I'm in the library of the jazz school right now and doing something illegal, or frowned upon, or taboo! I'm writing. All around me, saxophones are blown, drums are being worked on, people are singing or humming or tapping or clicking. It's a maddening atmosphere. The air is full of promise, so many talented people, some playing all day long, or so it seems, some quickly pouring coffee down their throats before getting back to their mini-practise-labs.
This morning, in the train, I put a 15/8meter beat on my laptop, practised crossfading rhythms on my way to the bus, and in the bus listened to two songs by Avishai Cohen, at school I practised for a while, got carried away, and forgot a meeting with a teacher. Later, in a arctic-cold room, I listened to another teacher talking about some new assignment, we'll have to do five reharmonizations of tunes, play them, solo over them and record them. In ten minutes, I'll go practise some more, then I'll have my piano lesson, will look at the 15/8-beat again, listen to some more Avishai Cohen, maybe do some arranging on the computer on the train, and will be home at about 5pm. Then I'll listen to John Coltrane: Coltrane and Cannonball, will briefly write about it for another assignment. At 7pm sharp, I'll stop working, and slowly my feet will touch ground again: I'll have to do laundry, do some cooking and cleaning, and maybe later I'll see the Paraglider who is playing a gig tonight.
That's just for today, but days are rather similar. I'm often wondering not only about other people's lives, but also about their day-to-day routine, I mean: how exactly does a day go for a police man? Or a social worker?

Prisoner Of Her Passion

I saw an interview in a magazine today, with a ballet dancer from New York. Beyond doubt, a a) dancer who lives in b) New York must be the coolest person in the world! Yet she said:
   "I wouldn't want for my children to become dancers. It's too hard. Every day, you have to face yourself  in  the mirror; you can't concentrate on what is good, only on what's bad, the mistakes. And perfection won't ever be achieved.
I love dancing, and I hate it. I suppose I love it more than I hate it, or else I would have stopped dancing until now."

Hello sister! (even if being a ballet dancer is in my opinion much harder than being a jazz  student!) The piano is my passion, yet there is sometimes such a thin line between, let's just say, happiness and anger. People often tell me how great it is that I can pursue my passion, and I wholeheartedly agree! But (as it is with any other occupation) there are very mixed emotions involved.

I love and hate it basically for the same reason. I love that a part of my life will never be over or finished, there will always be music to listen to, people to find out about, and technique to be learnt. And with a constant anger underneath I also hate it: there will always be this striving, always people who play better, write better, and I hate that it won't ever be over, ever. And I hate that I dedicate myself to a "nothingness", and I love that I chose a discipline to dig deep into. And I hate the very practical aspect about it: if you don't practise, you lose your abilities very quickly, you snooze you lose, and I love the feeling of achievement after practising, and I hate to do something useless, and I love the freedom it gives me.

I don't mean to lament. It comes with the deal. But it's great to know that other people have thoughts like that. This is how Inna, the ballet dancer from New York, concluded the interview:

  "I don't know what comes after death, but there has to be something. I just hope I won't have to dance any more!"