A Musician's Doping

In my short essay about jazz above (I compare playing jazz to going away on a holiday - practising like packing systematically makes sure you'll be prepared for anything), I state that jazz is primarily an intuitive art form. Trusting on skills and knowledge only as pillars, with freedom in mind, it's about expressing something.
And it's amazing how intuition can be trained!
Yesterday, I listened to different piano players for hours. If I liked a tune, I listened to it repeatedly. But I didn't play anything.
Today, as I started my daily practising routine, I heard me playing differently. Somehow, ideas, melodies, chords, and most of all, phrasing from the really great cats, had made their way into my brain, and parts of it came out through my fingers. Isn't that unbelievably cool? You can play better by doing absolutely nothing!
Of course, I know, I know: it won't last. Much like a common doping, the effect decreases. But it's still great to know that there's a way to trick your brain into playing better, without effort, without thinking even (what a pity, I like to do that so much). I've used this effect in the end of the semester before my piano lesson. Afterwards, I felt relaxed and inspired, which made me sound really good (my teacher said that).
Unfortunately, this knowledge has to be renewed often, in my case at least - I often practise more than I listen to music, because as a good swiss girl, I'm trained to believe that only effort and hard work can lead to success...

A picture of what went into the bin after my second year of jazz studies. Another thing I like to do since I'm swiss: to clean out!

I'm A Pool To Want You

Browsing through the master library of my realbooks (containing the best known tunes used in jazz music), I found this cutest of all typing errors. He's actually a fool to want her in the song. But wouldn't a pool who wants something make a really nice children's book?
Two encounters I made in the past few days, which I'd like to describe because they're kind of stereotypical.
The first one: on an office break, somebody shyly brought up the subject of jazz, because of me of course. She said: so you play jazz? There aren't lots of people interested in that, are there?
How nicely put! I added that in fact, there weren't many, and let out my typical self-irony-ridden-speech, which brought the others to say: no, actually, I don't dislike jazz, I really like it, as a background for parties!
Which, if a jazz musician is really honest, isn't the best professional perspective, but it's nice to know people like it...
And the second situation: on a party, after someone introduced me as a jazz pianist, a woman came to me and avidly asked me about my studies, my practising and my perspectives, and was really interested. She, as an amateur classical cellist, said she thought it must be incredibly hard to improvise like that, and couldn't imagine what kind of pillars one had to hold on to, what to consider, and how to listen to each other.
Which made me feel warm and fuzzy. My career's interesting!

Often I can't believe why I really hold on to this, why I practise so much for so few people interested, how much work is necessary for the kind of career I'm expecting. But on the other hand, not many people know it, or like it, and not many people can study music like that, which makes it interesting. An aspect I kind of like... So I guess I really am a "Pool" to want to do this jazz stuff. But a least a special one?

About dis- and -satisfaction

"Feeling dissatisfied motivates us to practice and improve or change or advance until we once again feel somewhat satisfied - and the process continues, ad infinitum" - I've read some chapters of trombonist Hal Crook's new book* in the past few days.
Basically he says that satisfaction cannot exist without dissatisfaction, and while dissatisfaction can lead to frustration or anxiety, it is also a pushing factor. Of course this sounds painfully obvious. But let me tell you, as a beginner in jazz improvisation, there is just so much to be dissatisfied with, it's overwhelming, like timing and rhythm, hearing ability, melodic and harmonic concepts, accompaniment, musical development, voicings, etc., etc. What people like me (who are always thinking too much, instead of just doing it) need to do is to find a way to live with dissatisfaction, because it's always going to be a partner in our musical careers. There is always going to be a weak point, or a person who plays better or differently. I always thought that I would one day reach a level when I would approve of my playing, being able to do certain basic things, which would allow me to present myself as a musician equal to hundreds of others, one of them - still wanting to improve, but basically doing ok. After two years of intense studies at the jazz school I'm not so sure when I will reach this point. When something is mastered, there are already a hundred new topics a-waiting. I guess I can say that I am doing well, I get good grades, but I often think that I am so far away from being an individual musician who ought to get on stage.
After reading Hal Crook, I got the feeling that maybe there is a line that needs to be drawn. A line between dissatisfaction and satisfaction, which in fact would define self-confidence. For me, it would maybe sound like that: "Yes, there is a lot to be learnt and practised, and it's good to be aware of that, however, look back on the past few years and start to realize how far you've come (better start doin' that or I'll slap you)".
For example: two months ago, I wasn't really able to improvise freely in 5/4, 7/4 or 11/8. Next monday, I'll play two oddmeter tunes in a concert and in my piano exam on Wednesday, I'll play a solo piece in 5/4. Which means that I am on my way, I guess!

A little picture to lighten the once again philosophical mood: I played a little concert in the basement of a house full of musicians last week. And of course said musicians don't have a normal guestroom with a bed, a nightstand and a lovely flowery lamp - this is where I slept. I've never slept in the same room with a steinway AND a drum (and a blanket with a giant burn mark) before! Cozy and a little scary at the same time...

*"Beyond time and changes: a musician's guide to FREE jazz improvisation", Hal Crook, 2010.