Wednesday, 9 May 2012

Kieth Terry

My new hero.




He sells instructional videos here and here.

The importance of rests


This from facebook. Jo is going through psychology finals.

Do I have a problem?


 ·  ·  · April 25 at 5:50am via mobile · 

  • 3 people like this.
    • Briony Greenhill perhaps you need some sleep.

    • Briony Greenhill P.S. I am currently thinking about the need for rest in learning. Right now I'm learning to play a complex sequence of jazz chords. I get to know the chords really well in pairs. Each pair takes about ten minutes. After that I need to do nothing. Just gaze out of the window for a few moments, maybe noodle on facebook. It's like my brain is asking for a rest while it digests the new information. Psychology of learning?

    • Jo Evershed There is a nice paper by Ericsson (1993) that shows that expert musicians, in contrast to just very good musicians, are more likely to have a nap mid afternoon.

      He infers that by doing so they allow a 'sleep cycle' to 'consolidate' the learning so that they are ready for more.

      In another interesting study (Seabrook, 2004) compared two methods of learning to read. One in which 5 year olds had 1 x 6 minute session every day for 2 weeks and on in which they had 3x2 minute session every day for 2 weeks. The total amount of learning is the same but the distributed practice group improved FAR more.

      Bahrick et al. argue that this is because short session allow you to focus and attend to the subject matter more. I think something slightly different is going on, by leaving the task and returning to it you allow some forgetting which subsequently requires that you re-instate the memory / learning. This 're-instantment' has a powerful learning impact and additionally, helps you form a more generalisable representation of what you have just learnt.

      You didn't want an essay but I was looking at this material this morning so it is good revision for me!

      xx

Wednesday, 11 January 2012

Group vocal improv exercises

Over the last few months we at the London Vocal Improv Collective have found, collated, created and collected these ways of approaching vocal improvisation in a group of about 6 - 12 people.

1. Talking nonsense
Start by having conversations in nonsense. Before long, patterns start to arise from the nonsense - hear a phrase you like and start to repeat it. Little loops arrive, and from them music grows...

A good warm up for this is the Bobby M exercise where you go through the alphabet doing a bit of nonsense with each letter of it as the starting letter in turn.

2. Twisted karaoke
One person thinks of a song and keeps it secret. The rest of the group starts a groove (using, if needed, exercise 4). Then the soloist has to put their song over the group's groove, keeping as faithfully as possible to the song yet putting it within the tempo, time and key signature of the groove. Especially good with traditional songs in your mother tongue :)

3. You sing we follow
One person starts singing. It can be a song or an improvisation. The rest of the group brings in sound to support.

4. Motor, interlocker, counterpoint

Small version
Create a base with three roles.

The motor is a 1 - 4 bar repetitive riff. It has to have some space in it. Often you improvise your way into it, start singing whatever and wait for the loop to arise. The motor is also the conductor, and can lead key changes, endings, pauses, dynamic changes and so on.

The interlocker is like the motor's partner. It lives in the spaces created by the motor and works with the motor to create a strong basket to hold the piece in.

The counterpoint is another loop, but now an entirely new kind of sound, to create a fresh contrast to the motor-interlocker partnership. So, if they are very staccato, the counterpoint might be very flowing. If they are cute, it might be harsh. If they descend slowly, the counterpoint might ascend quickly. You get the idea.

Bigger version
Several other parts can layer upon the three part basis. Each of the primary three parts can have harmonies from other singers. In addition, there is base, rhythm (can be two or more people) and a soloist.


5. Whale song
Apparently, communities of whales know who's in their community because they all share the same song. They swim around the sea singing it. Often little variations come in. When a whale hears a community member singing a variation they like, they pick it up. In that way, by the end of a season often a whole community will be singing an entirely different song to the song they started with, but they will all still be singing the same song as one another.

Here's how whale song works.

One person is the conductor. They divide singers into parts and make up a part for each part group.

Once you've been given your part, you can stick to it, you can copy someone else, or you can sing something entirely different. The only idea really is to keep what you're doing in fitting with the whole sound. (It can be fitting to take it somewhere new).

In that way, once you've all got into the car, so to speak, you can take the car anywhere together. The piece finishes itself. When it's over, it's over.

6. Conductor soloist 
This is a bit like whale song but more power remains with the initial conductor. The conductor can keep tweaking the piece once it's live, changing parts, influencing dynamics and generally doing whatever they want.

The conductor can pick a soloist, or different soloists in turn. If you're picked you come into the middle and solo over the group. It doesn't matter how scared you are. You'll relax before long. It's important that the group supports the soloist with their volume, being quiet enough to hear the soloist and matching the soloists energy when they get loud and strong.

The conductor can be the soloist, and can play with the parts, for example cutting a part for half of it and singing in the space created like a call and response. You can silence parts entirely, move part volumes up and down, get everyone singing the same part, create more and more sub parts, and solo in a way that supports and serves the sound - anything that sounds and feels good!

6. Bubble up from silence
Here you just start from silence, with closed eyes, and let sound bubble up, live and die. What I find really delightful here is the mix between more and less musical noise. It can start from breath, rhythm can emerge, strange noises, animal or machinery noises, then some notes might flower like petals, stretch and harmonise, fly a little together, then sink back into atonal sounds.

7. Scene setting
This is a bit like bubbling up from silence, but you start by deciding on a scene. It can be, 'sunrise in Mumbai', or, 'a swamp', or, '2am soho' etc. Again you start from silence, the scene rises, lives out a kind of story, and then dies back into silence.

Do you have any more?

Friday, 23 September 2011

Lovely lullabies

Coorie Doon is beautiful

Irene Watt is an ethnomusicologist in Scotland who teaches lullabies to mothers and all their babies fall asleep in the classes.

Monday, 29 August 2011

Bobby McFerrin Workshop!


Totally high. I’m at the Omega Institute in New York State, just after the first night of a workshop with Bobby McFerrin. The Master


thanks to pitch, rhythm and God for the picture. Oo. Pitch rhythm and God?

Circle songs
He creates them quickly. No premeditation. He gets a feeling, starts singing something, turns it into a loop, looks around for which voice it is, assigns it appropriately.  Creates another, off he goes.

He creates parts which he can break into chunks. It’s like a dolls house that you can take parts off. You can take off the whole roof, or this or that chimney, or all chimneys leaving the roof, or the whole roof again. By which I mean, he’ll give three voices the same part in harmony, and the part can be split in two. Then he plays call and response. Sometimes with one voice, silencing it one round while he sings in the gap that creates, bringing it back in again one round while he stops singing, silencing it again and singing back. Or he’ll do that with half the part – silencing it for the first half of the loop and singing, bringing it back for the second half. Sometimes he’ll do that with one voice, the top voice, say, keeping the lower two voices of that part, sometimes he’ll do that with all three voices, just leaving, say, the bottom three voices keeping a different part of the sound going. Like sometimes peeling off the trees, and sometimes peeling off the trees and the earth showing the bare rock beneath.

The conductor in the middle plays solo. They’re not taking from the group sound, the group doesn’t subjugate to support them; they’re contributing. Giving whatever they can to raise the energy. Bits. Pieces. Artful little contributions. The energy raises. They alter the piece. Add something. A hey on an off beat. That gets gradually louder. An underlying beatbox. Something that gives.

It’s brilliant. It’s fucking brilliant.

Small group improv
Wowweeeeee I can’t say how delighted I was to see what they started with.
A group of five. Bobby got going with a loose little loop that sometimes stuck to the pattern and sometimes didn’t. Gradually each singer began to contribute something complementary. All voices relaxed and soft. Everything playful and delicious and musical. The piece meandered, grew, took a left, up a sharp hill, down a soft slope, suddenly in unison, now polyphonic again, Oh My God this is heaven and I want to jump in and I want to swim and swim and live in this.

The four singers accompanying him are the teachers. They are Rhiannon, Christiane Karam, Joey Blake and David Worm. They are humble and brilliant and beautiful and I want to sit at their feet and apprentice myself to them, to Rhiannon and Bobby in particular.

There is embodied grace, embodied humility, embodied excellence, a palpable spirituality that is about grounded authentic play, play with elegant beauty, play with beastly snarls, play with all that it is to be human, but all that so subtly, because above all it is music and it is very very musical. Sometimes I find, in myself and in others, that when the musical expertise is lacking an over-expressiveness can take over to compensate. These guys have the balance.

Here are some of the things that they said.

Someone voiced my question: what are you doing when you do that? They said things like this:

I’m thinking, co-operate, co-operate, co-operate. Blend in. Don’t do anything tricky.
Give away. Find out where you fit. Trust. We have each others’ backs. A lot of love. Being very quiet. Listening for what’s being given.

Everyone has a tone, sound and rhythm. Don’t be impatient. Take time to listen for what the person is doing.

Not really thinking. Anticipating what they might do (often wrongly), supporting and accompanying.

Practice informs and enriches your vocabulary. Listen listen listen to all manner of things. Among other activities that will develop your vocabulary.

It’s all jazz. Be loose, be free, don’t think too much about it, let the music come out.

Skill building. Become confident to jump in. At first it will be fearful, of course. “Anything worthwhile doing, if it’s new, you’ll be a little afraid of it.” (Bobby).

Watch the music come out. See where it goes.

Practice
Play with different sounds, the whole alphabet. Play with each consonant against each vowel. Quickly. Light and agile. Play your way through the whole alphabet in something like a minute.

Could be supported by an underlying slow groove circle song.

Someone can lead it. Calling things like chord number – singing the instructions. And say things like: Stop. Hold a silence. Then, Go.

Humm. What can I do, each week, little by gentle little, humble by playful humble, enjoyably, to expand my vocabulary?