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!
Showing posts with label satisfaction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label satisfaction. Show all posts
2011/01/14
2010/08/24
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!"
"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!"
2010/08/17
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!
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!
2010/06/17
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.
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!
*"Beyond time and changes: a musician's guide to FREE jazz improvisation", Hal Crook, 2010.
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