If I had my way, at the moment, I would spend all the time I'm not playing capoeira, eating or sleeping - writing blues and reading books. Sadly there is also work - and practicing expanding my jazz repertoire. And cleaning, and cooking, and wasting time fruitlessly on the internet and life in general.
I set out to write an E flat blues. I ended up writing an E flat minor blues by accident. I think my accidents, in composition anyway, are often more interesting than when I try to be interesting.
The title of this tune is inspired by a cut-out by Matisse (which I saw in the blockbuster exhibition at the Tate). The official title of the cut out is Two Masks (The Tomato). But on seeing it - I didn't think it looked either like two masks, or a tomato.
I think this is a picture of a Sad Octopus.
In the tune Sad Octopus is even sadder than he is in the picture. If I had set out to write a tune about the Sad Octopus it would've been a bit brighter. There would've been some green amid the blue. Sad Octopus, in the tune is sad. Really sad. Sad like a clown howling at the moon. Don't say you weren't warned.
Monday
I went to see the new film of Anna Karenina directed by Joe Wright and staring Keira Knightley. I quite liked it - I'm not saying I was blown away by it. No it doesn't do the novel justice - but it's a great big doorstop of a book - so no adaptation will. And one could argue endlessly about inclusions, exclusions and what it all means. They included the Levin story - unsurprisingly as a rather sketchy subplot - but they didn't cut it altogether as previous film (as opposed to TV) adaptations have done. This is good, the book actually has more pages about Levin than it does about Anna. I know this, because I counted them for my MSc dissertation.
Now I don't do the fashionable thing of hating on Keira - in fact, sometimes I think she can be quite good. In the Duchess, her meatiest role to date, I thought she was rather good. And I think she handles the action, comedy and contortions of the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise with a great deal more aplomb than she's' commonly given credit for. Her performance here does perhaps lack substance. But as several reviewers have said so does the film. She's certainly capable of raising her game (I thought she was good in The Duchess and better in Atonement than she has here). If anything it's Aaron Taylor-Johnson who comes across as a lot more vacuous than Vronsky might be. Especially compared to Jude Law, reminding us once again that he's a fine character actor, trapped in the looks of a leading man. Kudos to Alicia Vikander for a fine performance the sadly fleeting role of Kitty.
I liked the visual boldness of the concept - setting much of the Moscow/Petersberg/Anna story in a theatre. Supposed to represent the artificiality of the characters lives. In many ways I found the whole film gloriously stylised with elements of dance-like choreography of fans, clerks, and uhmmm dancing. There is a lot going on visually - and I can see myself watching this again on DVD - and having the time to really look and unpick what's going on. On the downside the famous names in the cast don't look as co-ordinated somehow in the movement as the extras - who have perhaps been drawn from a more dance/physical theatre background. This is a seriously sumptuous film - full of little visual details to relish. And although it does 'open up' into more naturalistic setting the lighting cinematography never quite makes these seem real. The whole has the feel of a claustrophobic dream - where one's subconscious has somehow conflated Anna Karenina with another dream about a disused dilapidated theatre.
There's a half-baked thought buzzing somewhere in my head about the history of non-naturalistic theatre in Russia. There is one scene, where Matthew McFadyan's Oblonsky walks through a room full of clerks working at typewriters that put me in mind of Meyerhold's production of the government inspector. In fact the whole non-naturalistic approach to a Russian sacred cow is vaguely Meyerholdian? Is it possible that Joe Wright has encountered Meyerhold & Biomechanics. I can't help feeling that if this were the case - he'd have been touting it - as would the reviewers as markers of erudition. Difficult to say. Ahh. Yes. Meyerhold, my theatrical hero. Who once said "you must make people pay you well to make the theatre they want. You will pay out of your own pocket to make the theatre you want"
Wednesday
The great British Bake-Off. This remains my favourite thing on TV at the moment. Though even this has started, slightly to pall. The novelty, for me, has perhaps worn off. But still...I still love the atmosphere of high drama, the cruel impossibility of the technical challenges. The tension, the nerves, the triumphs & disasters. There's something deliciously shcadenfreudlich watching people being held up to such scrutiny. But at the same time...having two of my teenage heroes Mel and Sue wondering around gleefully reminding us that...it's only cake....and that they've got forks at the ready as soon as the cameras stop rolling.
Saturday
Troyka and Ivo Neame Octet at King's Place. As part of the King's Place festival. I think one of the reasons that I don't go to the cinema much any more - is that there's so much live stuff - theatre, gigs/ etc that's the same price as a cinema ticket. If not less. Makes me wonder what the hell cinemas are charging for (apart from having their buildings/ cafes open for multiple half empty showings three times a day) when you can see two gigs, comprising 11 real life musicians for £9....
I like Troyka. And even though this was a great gig - they were let down a bit by the sound guys. Normally I like King's Place, it's an excellent venue with one of the the friendliest FOH teams in London. But I was straining to hear the bass on Kit Downes's keyboard - and in a bassless trio - that's less than ideal. Downes's left hand lines are a fairly big motor in the rockier, funkier Troyka grooves. I did not come away wishing that they'd play in a proper club with a proper dance floor so I can actually get down to it, as it were. This is how I felt after their recent Con Cellar gig and also how the album makes me feel in places. So I missed that. However, I have now heard a piece of music about decomposing sea-gulls and duly consider my horizons broadened.
My internal jury has been a bit out on whether or not I really like Ivo Neame's compositions. But with the Octet set up...I'm sold. Passing Clouds - which also appears on the latest Phronesis Walking Dark - is not to me a standout track on that album (not to say it's a dud either, just one that doesn't quite catch my attention). But here, suddenly, it lifted and somehow made more sense. And oh my goodness the cream of young british jazz...a reed section comprising Clarinet, Bass Clarinet, Tenor and Alto. Bass clarinet is my new favourite instrument to listen to. I am now itching to get my hands on a copy of the forthcoming album Yatra....Plus girl in the band playing actual instrumental jazz on a jazz instruments (**points and bounces**). 1 in 8 - if only the ratio was usually that good - every third trio would have a girl in it...and every other quartet.
I'm thankful to the chap in the audience who shouted out for more of the Vibes in the mix. He was spot on it was far too quiet - it would have been a real shame to lose Jim Hart's playing. The King's place festival is a wonderful thing with so much for such reasonable prices. But there is an element of being overstretched on the technical side that just knocked a quarter star off their overall five star rating in my head as a venue.
Two contrasting gigs but both rich and complex. Musical creativity is alive and well in the UK with a rich seams of both improvisation and composition that's both complex but also accessible.
Among many other contrasts it should be noted that the Ivo Neame ensemble appear to have figured out the art of appearing on stage in a shirt that has been ironed.
Well what can I say. When I set out writing this blog I said solo piano pieces. Because that's pretty much all I had the wherewithal to make and share.
But then I got fed up of literally cutting and pasting my musical ideas to get them into the right order. With scissors and glue glue glue.
So I bought Sibelius 7 First.
Which is a bit like having a tiny tinny orchestra living in your computer ready to play your ideas at a drop of a hat.
So here is my first Jazz Quartet piece. Six months ago...I had no idea I'd be doing this.
Which just goes to show you never can tell.
Now this piece, as well as being a very first attempt at something new, has a bit of a history to it too. A quarter of a century history of friendship. I have no idea how I came to be old enough to have friendships this old...but there you are.
My excellent friend Jenny is training to be a vicar. And she's on placement in New Orleans. And on her blog she wrote this about the name of her blog about this mighty fine experience. It's called Going All Jennola
Here's how she explains it...
"My brother described me this way once: “she’s going all granola”. You can picture what he meant. I was in my most tomato-growing, organic English peppermint tea drinking, sandal-y kind of phase. We’ve all been there, right?
Hence the title of this blog.
Having fallen upon the word, I have also developed a (now, not-so-secret) hope that I meet a sort of Thelonius Monk figure there who will write some gorgeous swaying kind of a piece, which will have to involve a muted trumpet, and name it this. You’ll be the first to know.."
Idiosyncratic I may be. But I'm no Thelonious Monk. I'm hardly dapper enough. And as for the music....well I love Thelonious Monk. I could listen to him and bash my way through his tunes night and day and then some. Monk was a genius of modern music. I emphatically never will be.
At the same time I have no idea how I could've resisted the urge, in my own simple beginner way, to try and write something that corresponded to this description.
There is definitely something here of what Mr Vonnegut says about writing a poem for a friend...even a lousy poem...
I ordered Sibelius 7 First. It's due to arrive by courier today.
I couldn't really justify the expense of the full fat version. But I find when I try and write music up neatly - oh the mistakes - and it's just such a pain in the posterior not being able to add the bar you left out. Plus - I have to do it in pencil. Then ink over it. Then rub out the pencil. And then I find the mistake and have to start again. Or I have to do literal cut and paste jobs with scissors and sellotape. Then phtocopy it to cover my tracks. And it just takes forever.
This is exciting. It's almost like I'm taking myself seriously.
I found a Dorothy Parker poem (Indian Summer) in a book of comic verse which I bought in St Leondards on Sea for 33 p. I was browsing in a charity shop looking for things to read. Three for a pahnd.
This made me remember how much I liked DP's poems. So I looked some more up on the internet.
And what a wealth there are. I like them because they are an antitidote to the lyrics of a lot of jazz/pop songs about love. Yes people in her poems fall in love, yes it's beautiful, and painful when it ends. But they also get over their pain, and move on. Losing love is like falling off a bike. You cycle full pelt into a Ford Mondeo, it hurts like hell, you limp about for 6 months feeling miserable with a leg the colour of an aubergine, but soon you're out there in the sunshine singing praises to the morning again on your two wheeled steed.
A lot of DP's poems were written in what the blurb writers on editions of The Great Gatsby might call the 'jazz age'. It seems fitting to try and set some of them. And they seem to invite it. A little swing.
I identify very strongly with the sentiments of this poem. I am not here, taking compositional baby steps, and blogging about it, because I expect to be a success by anyone elses measure. I'm in this for joy of learning and of creating things. I will not get rich cooking Sunday lunch for my friends - but I will probably have a nice time doing it. And so hopefully will they. Creativity is food for the soul.
So I copied the poems out by hand and stuck them with blu tac to the wall above the piano. To let my mind wander over them and maybe associate them with things I'm practising/ experimenting with.
Less than a day later I ended up spending the whole day experimenting with ideas and coming up with this.
It's 21 bars long. I tried to put more bars in to make it a more standard length - but I didn't like it so much that way. So I'm sticking with 21.
This is either
a) beginners ignorance/incompetence (likely)
or
b) highly appropriate to the content of the poem itself (nice excuse but I'm not buying it unless you are).
I originally wrote it in C - but when I tried to arrange (lazily) by using LH strumming chords. It sounded muddy. So I transposed it to G. Then I decided I wanted to send it to a friend who sings to see what she thinks and took a punt on a key she might be able to sing it in (Eflat).
There are some unresolved chromatic passing notes in there.
Yesterday, when I meant to be practising chromatic passing notes, I ended up spending most of my piano time doing a setting of a Dorothy Parker poem.
This is how composing seems to go for me, so far anyway.
Something springs to mind. A mood. A poem I want to set. A feeling I want to capture. I then spend time. Varying amounts of time. The idea whirls in and out of my head. My subconscious does a little processing the idea.
Then when I'm practising an exercise or experimenting with a technical idea (for example translating a samba reggae rhythm onto the piano) I'll suddenly find something. And my subconscious sticks up its hand and says.
"excuse me, but I like that, it's this idea".
And then I have a beginning. And I ask - what comes next? And I try things. Sometimes what I try is intuitive. Sometimes it's more intellectual - based on the music theory I know. And my subconscious says one of three things about each thing I try.
No.
Nearly.
Yes.
And I repeat that process (what comes next) until I come to what seems to be the end.
I don't feel like I'm 'hearing' tunes in my head. Not distinctly in an "I can hum this so I'm going to transcribe it" way. It's much more obtuse than that. More saying yes to an instinct of when something I try sounds OK or 'right'. If I can't find what sounds right I have to go away and let it settle. Let my subconscious work it out and suggest things to my intellect to try.
It's a collaborative process.
My subconscious is really bossy and demands the final say.
Sheepishly I am forced to admit that the modest target of 12 pieces in 2012 is turning out to be too ambitious. The process of actually learning to play jazz piano is soaking up time. But with that come new ideas and things to try in my mind.
Ideas are forming and reforming. Swimming up to the surface so that I catch glimpses. Rose moles all in stipple on trout that swim.* But I guess the flies aren't done hatching yet, or whatever, because they're not biting on the end of my line. I see blops and concentric rings where they break the surface by the banks on the other side. I know they're there, I just have to be patient.
I found this Dorothy Parker Poem in a book of comic poems I bought for 33p in St Leondards on Sea in the gap between train arrival and drum rehearsal.
Then I looked at some other DP poems on the internet and started thinking about how inviting they seemed for setting. Probably swing. Wry and zesty alternatives to the red roses/ deep gloom of so many love songs.
This morning I was practising using chromatic passing notes on C6. Delicious. And I caught a taste of something that made me think about this poem.
