“In fifteen seconds the difference between composition and improvisation is that in composition you have all the time you want to decide what to say in fifteen seconds, while in improvisation you have fifteen seconds.” Steve Lacey, Jazz Saxophonist & Composer
It’s funny how our experience of art can change over time. The same piece of work, whether a song, movie, book, etc., that we experience many times throughout our lives, can suddenly take on new meaning or tap into some previously unexplored aspect of ourselves.
Obviously, the work itself has not changed; such things are static for the most part. Instead, it is we who have changed. We have lived more. We possess a deeper well of knowledge and experience than when we first encountered this piece of art or knowledge.
It’s all a bit of a cliché, I know, but clichés only earn that title by remaining true for a very long time.
I experience this phenomenon quite often these days. And the above quote is one of those little pearls of wisdom that keeps popping back up to the surface every few years. It has always sat in my mind as a sort of boastful and playful musing on the subject. It’s insightful, of course, and a nice reminder for the over-thinkers among us that it's all Music and it’s all the same game.
However, recently, I find myself recognizing a more prescriptive layer to this statement. A call to action, if you will.
We generally tend to think about improvisation and composition as different practices, and there is some truth to this. I mean, these two practices can at times feel worlds apart. They each require different strengths and present different challenges. I’ve seen improvisers who don’t feel comfortable composing and composers who would be terrified of improvising on the bandstand. It’s just a different mindset, and they both can take some getting used to.
I have come to believe that the solution to both the challenges faced by composers and the challenges faced by improvisers exists within their counterpart. That by fostering a swinging door mentality between the compositional mind and the improvisational mind, we as creators can break through any and all creative blocks.
So what does this mean?
Well, for example, it could mean that if you feel your improvisations have become repetitive and uninteresting, you might want to explore different compositional practices related to form and melody structure, and experiment with ways to incorporate such systems into your playing.
If you feel stuck on a composition, it could mean just improvising some ideas, latching onto anything that sounds remotely interesting, and playing around with it until it clicks.
Some of my favorite creations have been the subject of captured improvisations. In fact, I have an entire new album coming soon in which I embraced this practice throughout the whole process. Each track was built on a unique improvised guitar loop—a product of play that evolved into something unrecognizable and quite special, in my opinion.
If you would like to stay informed about upcoming releases, I encourage you to subscribe to my newsletter. I’m really excited to share this new project with you!
In the meantime, I invite you to explore this idea. Try some improv-driven composition: don’t think or judge, just play and capture what you can. Experiment with different structural guidelines for your improv. And above all, play.
Be well and see you on the next one!