more scrittles

I'm a devotee of the Cryptogramophone label, run by violinist Jeff Gauthier out of Los Angeles. It's not just the frequent appearances of godhead Nels Cline that has made me slowly accumulate most of their catalog, but also the aesthetic of excellently recorded music with an improvisational bent, clad in beautiful packaging. The artists all seem to share a heartfelt reverence for the music, too; even when it's free jazz its spikiest, I find it extremely listenable, without the sort of offhand nihilism I often sense in go-for-broke blowing.

Just the last few weeks, I've realized how much I enjoy the interaction among musicians that is present in these recordings. The confluence of distinct sounds is a wonderful thing. I've been picturing myself as a solo artist recently, originating from how much I enjoyed the experience of formal composing and solo performance in my last project, but suddenly I realize how much I want to be able to make a contribution to a group setting as well.

So instead of building up more solo pieces, I've found myself focusing on practice once again, working on physical skills as well as harmony and improvisation through changes. I'm even sitting down with the Real Books and going through all those old chestnuts.

It really gets my hackles up when people dismiss "technical proficiency", or seem to view diligent practicing as something only for students and classical musicians. The truth is that some people are naturally more gifted with skills than others, who need to work at it a bit more. Case in point; my two cohorts in Ojas had reached a level of technique on their instruments, in their early twenties, that most people won't reach in a lifetime. Their chops weren't due to a decade of day-in day-out practicing, either; they both just seemed to find a natural disposition toward their instruments, which combined with some degree of effort over a few years resulted in some amazing skills.

I don't feel as if I was born with such an obvious gift; I think I was given a decent ear and a love for music, but I've had to work very hard for every bit of speed and fluidity that I have. When I arrived at Berklee, I could barely fake my way through a slow two-octave major scale. I knew the scale, but I couldn't really play it. Within a few days there, I knew that to do the things I wanted to do I had to do some serious practicing. I set to work, and very quickly became a much better player.

During the time when I was very focused on playing as part of a rock band, I felt like I had the abilities to do what I wanted to do, and I stopped practicing. But since then, the things I want to be able to do have grown, and so it's been apparent that once again I need to devote a lot of time to the practicing of skills. I feel like I do it in a fairly creative way - I don't practice licks - and even when doing things like mastering new scales or chord shapes, I work it into a form of making actual music as opposed to rote repetition. As I practice, I can tell that my playing improves and that my musical ideas also grow, which is the best encouragement I could possibly ask for.

Ultimately, my point is that playing good music involves some degree of skill, and that the process of acquiring those skills can sometimes require some actual work. Those who discount technical proficiency generally seem to come from a rock/indie/punk sentiment, which I can relate to as that's my own background. But all of the most influential punk bands knew what they were doing. The Clash, Black Flag, Dead Kennedys, Minutemen, Husker Du, Television, Bad Brains…all of these bands could play in tune, in time, with a real personality on their instruments. And the best among them had very well-developed skills; whether arrived at through raw talent or years of practice as a kid, I couldn't tell you, but Greg Ginn and Dr. Know and Bob Mould and D. Boon and Tom Verlaine played their asses off. I'm certainly familiar with the No Wave bands, who often brought a mindful amateurishness to their music, but I think they're the exception rather than the rule (and it's my personal opinion that they didn't make such lasting music).

Knowing your instrument well just means you have more choices available, it hardly means you're locked into some geeky style of playing. I think it's enlightening to look at the collaborations between Thurston Moore and Nels Cline. Nels is one of the most technically gifted, knowledgable guitarists playing today, while Thurston seems proud of his very raw, intuitive approach. But they're able to play together and make great music, without any sense of imbalance. And in other situations, Nels is able to play a whole lot of things that Thurston is simply unable to. How could that be a bad thing?