Free Improvisation? What's that?

 That was the question I asked myself at the beginning of the semester when I noticed I had a class on Fridays from 4:00-6:00. My first thought was one of extreme hesitation. Sure, I acted excited cause I wanted to seem “open and welcome” to something like Improv. But truthfully I was scared. My experience with Improv was as “traditional” as it could be. I learned about some blues scales and progressions and then I was told to follow a chart I didn’t understand. This approach led a very frightened cellist to disliking the idea of improvising. Years after my first encounter I still had the same feelings. I was impressed with anyone who could do it, or was just brave enough to try!

            So after my first week of college I was grateful to have the company of other familiar cello faces around me. Little did I know they were improv veterans. As the class of about 35 all shuffled in we looked around a bit confused. Were these instruments? Bunt pans? Easter Eggs? Big pieces of random metal? And washboards! I picked up a washboard, as that seemed like a pretty “strait forward” percussive instrument. Emily Finlan, however, disagreed with my beginner’s choice. Pulling me back towards the shopping cart of goodies she fitted me with a vest and handed me a metal spoon. For the next thirty minutes I played my washboard/vest with more freedom than I had ever applied to my cello.

            Was this improv? I didn’t feel tense, or judged for my ridiculous behavior. The only way to describe this version of what I dreaded was… FUN!

            No, the class was not all banging on washboard and yelling out random noises. Exercise after exercise, piece after piece I began to realize that improv was whatever I could become. I know that seems rather… odd. But it’s true. Tonality, and harmonization all fall out the window when you stop focusing on the rules and solely focus on what you can conceive. If that means shouting what sounds like a tribal call, then that’s what it means. This past semester in Free Improvisation has enabled me to finally understand what music can be not what it has been.

            As we approach the concert in a few weeks I am excited about the growth I have seen: Not just in the music being made but more importantly in the people who are involved.  As the semester has progressed shy, introverted people (not unlike myself) picked up instruments they had never dreamed of playing. So maybe, music isn’t what’s on the page but more what is off the page. This conclusion has totally transformed my definition of music. Music is PEOPLE! YES, this is all extremely cheesy but it couldn’t be closer to the truth. Because until we let all of our preconceived ideas of what we learn in Music Theory go, we are trapped.

            I’ve literally had an argument with my orchestra director only using my cello and he his violin. In my first months of what I now understand to be FREE Impov I have laughed, cried, pulled a few muscles and summoned more energy at the end of the week than I believed possible.

Money is the root of all happiness.... wait, that doesn't seem right?

This past week while at work I came across a man who disagreed with my career of choice. I would be lying if I said this hasn't happened before, but for some reason this man was extremely insistent and got on my last nerves. Upon finding out that I had just graduated he asked me politely what my plans were and what my major would be in college. I quickly and proudly told him I was headed up to SUNY Fredonia to be a music performance major.

Not unlike others he gave a surprised look. He, however, seemed upset by my response. He immediately asked me,"Well are you smart?" (No joke, that is exactly what he said!)

I had to laugh. What kind of response was this? I told him I had done well in high school and I enjoyed learning and working hard. He then asked,"Well then why do you want to be a cellist?" REALLY? Did that just come out of your mouth? I told him that I loved cello, and there was nothing else I'd rather do. My answer was simple but it was the truth.

He then asked,"Well, is there any money in it?" I felt like I was being tested by this man and I was frankly shocked that he was still carrying on. Explaining to this man my opinion was not going to be easy. But money is NOT why I want to become a cellist.

Being an engineering professor he told me that I shouldn't be a cellist, but an engineer. I could make good money, and then cello would be better as a "hobby." We argued back and forth for a while about this and out of pure frustration I told him,"I do believe that I am fairly intelligent. I work hard and I love to be challenged and that is just it. I could be an engineer. Sure, I would make good money but I do NOT want to be bored all of my life. Cello is the only thing that I can find a daily, everlasting challenge in."

It shut him up and he walked away. But this whole experience got me thinking. Of course this is an age old idea, but people really should do what they love. I wouldn't find it challenging to be an engineer. Not because it isn't a hard career, but when you have passion for something, you seek the challenge. It becomes an obsession. You think about new ideas and ways to further that field. Not to say you can't commit yourself to something that isn't your passion, but I don't believe it will ever truly be the same.

Of course there is nothing wrong with wanting to make a good living. In fact, sometimes it goes hand in hand with your passion and love. I know that my career isn't the most stable but I know plenty of musicians that are perfectly contented. So that is what I strive for in my life. The fact that this man believes money is the root of all happiness is sad. I don't believe that is how that proverb goes. Isn't it "money is the root of all evil."

Again, there is nothing wrong with making a good living. I am NOT demonizing the choice to make money. That is a choice. That is why someone should be able to decide what career path would be best for them. Deciding on priorities and doing what is best is extremely individualized.

On the other side of the spectrum I met a lady who asked me a very similar question. She was an extremely pleasant German lady. She asked me what my plans were for college. After I told her I had long ago decided I wanted to be a cellist she too seemed skeptical. She asked me,"Do you love it?"

Her question startled me. I had NEVER been first asked if I loved cello by a stranger. That was something I had always needed to offer. It took me a moment to respond but once I told her that I loved cello very much, her face lit up and she said,

"Than you are doing the right thing."

Waltz Upon a Time... (yeah I know, that's rough)

For me, this has been an extreme year of change. I still want to be a cellist, but sometimes I wonder if anything else is still the same. This is in part because of the people I have met and the experiences I've had. The trials I've gone through and tribulations I have survived. Throughout the year, I have traveled to many cities, participated in clinics, and given some life altering concerts. The fact that my senior year has come to a close usually brings me to a state of overwhelming depression. I have to say goodbye by to so many things: My day to day life, my friends, my teachers, my mentors, and my family.

But today, while driving down highway 153, I was stricken with a much better, my different feeling. I was listing to the Pops station when "An der Elbe" came on. It is a very stereotypical waltz that was written by Strauss II. I am not saying it isn't beautiful. I mean come on... who doesn't love a good waltz by Strauss. The flying melody and familiar "1, 2, 3" would put anyone at ease. The waltz is after all a dance. I know it is one woman's opinion but I'd like to think that everyone is at least slightly in tune with Rhythm and movement. That is the basic reason why music is a universal language.

Anyways, as the music progressed and the waltz took shape I began to really love summer.

And let me tell you, I was anything but happy with this season at the time. My cars air condition is out, so I was extremely hot and on top of that my legs were itching like mad... I hate mosquitoes. I know hate is a strong word, but I don't care. They suck blood which seems like a thing that is okay to hate.

Now comes the part where I explain why this insignificant waltz made me love the sticky heat and sweltering sun. On several occasions when I was young my parents would take us down to Coolidge Park in downtown Chattanooga. There are wide open spaces, a fountain with animal statues to climb on, and a merry-go-round. The ride wasn't extremely spectacular. Of course I had my favorite horse, Rose, and as a young kid it was very exciting, but looking back there was only one thing on my mind.

I was always mesmerized by the music... the waltzes. I always thought that they were extremely beautiful. It is why I've always said, if I had to play only waltzes for the rest of my life, I would.

(Quick explanation: I am a cellist... that means I would be stuck playing "boom, chuck, chuck" forever.)

But for me, the "1, 2, 3" reminds me of when I was young and the most thrilling thing I could think of was to was riding that silly merry-go-round in the dead of summer. When everything is hot and gross. The time of summer when you wouldn't be caught dead outside. For me, I can find joy in that time because of the insignificant waltzes.

I thought I had lost my childhood excitement of the merry-go-rounds. I want bigger and more flashy things. I have not, however, grown tired of waltzes. They come on and in a second my entire day is changed. That is crazy. It is a piece of music. a common rhythm. How can that even be possible?

So yes, this year has been an exciting, crazy ride. But I am certain that the pieces of music I have played will give me an unbelievable window into this time of my life. If any random waltz can take me back to being 6 years old, than can't Tchaikovsky Serenade for Strings bring me back to CCA? Can't Mambo bring me back to All State and "Blow it up, Start again" bring me back to my last youth orchestra concert?


P.S. Sorry if there are any grammatical errors... I tried my hardest to catch them but my mom usually proofs my stuff.