A&HHE Special Issue August 2016
Historically inspired improvisation
Bert Mooiman and Karst de Jong
Abstract
Improvisation by classical musicians is often referred to as ‘classical improvisation’. This term is not without problems, though. In this paper we propose the notion of ‘historically inspired improvisation’ instead. ‘H.I.I.’ doesn’t necessarily aim for style imitations; rather, it works the other way around: integrating what we can use from historical music practices into our own creative music making. In this way, improvisation has the potential to fertilize all our ‘musicking’ (Small, 1998) – even when we play from scores. In improvisation, many branches of what is usually regarded as music theory come together in a creative way, ranging from aspects of ear training to the awareness of harmony and form. This paper explains the reasons behind the integration of improvisation in the new music theory curriculum at the Royal Conservatoire. It concludes with a brief discussion on the integration of elements of improvisation into the daily conservatoire praxis, focusing upon the two home institutions of the authors: the ESMUC in Barcelona and the Royal Conservatoire in The Hague.
Keywords
Improvisation, Piano, Classical music, Composition, Conservatoires
‘It is a pity that most (classical) musicians have fallen out of touch with the art of improvising. Improvising is the core of making music [author’s emphasis]. If you really understand what you are playing you must be capable of improvising in that same style. Otherwise all you are doing is imitating’ (Volodos, 2014).
As great fans of improvising we can only say that we completely agree with Volodos’ confession of love for this superb art. Of course it is perfectly possible to add some critical comments to this fragment from a journalistic interview. The assertion that musicians have lost the hang of improvising confirms a popular image that ‘in the past’ all musicians were able to improvise, and this is in fact far from certain. Funnily enough it is an idea that would appear to be timeless: authors have consistently idealised the past in this respect. As G.F. Wehle writes in the introduction to his monumental Die Kunst der Improvisation (1925): ‘So gut wie ausgestorben ist sie heute – die Kunst des Improvisierens! (…) Von Joh. Seb. Bach, Mozart, Bruckner, Liszt berichtet die Überlieferung, dass sie geniale Improvisatoren gewesen seien. Aber heute? Warum wird diese Kunst nicht mehr gepflegt?’[i] (Wehle, 1925). Earlier than this in 1849 Friedrich Kalkbrenner wonders: ‘Combien parmi nos meilleurs Pianistes en est-il, qui puissent faire un prélude tant soit peu satisfaisant? Et quant aux élèves on n’en voit pas un sur mille qui, dans ses improvisations, essaie de dépasser la cadence parfaite.’[ii] (Kalkbrenner, 1849.) At this time Liszt was at the height of his fame and Bruckner was still an unknown teacher… And going still further back into history, a well-known anecdote about Bach from 1720 suggests that when he was improvising for the extremely elderly Johann Adam Reincken, Reincken said : ‘Ich dachte, diese Kunst wäre ausgestorben; ich sehe aber, dass sie in Ihnen noch lebt.’[iii]
Equally the connection between ‘really understand what you are playing’ and improvising ‘in the same style’ of the classical masters needs to be regarded with caution. It is probably wiser to speak of an improvisation that is inspired by historical examples: ‘Historically Inspired Improvisation’ to take the analogy of the Early Music movement which often now refers to its approach in terms of ‘Historically Inspired Performance’. Improvising by definition happens in the here and now, in interaction with the unique parameters of that moment; it is therefore ‘situational’ to use the term of musicologist and organist Hans Fidom (2012). When pianists try to improvise in the style of, say, Beethoven, their playing will reflect their view on Beethoven’s style – a view that is rooted in, for example, a number of sonatas that they know well. In fact they do not base themselves at all on a music practice as such (because this practice has irrevocably disappeared), but on scores that are only a part of it. It is debateable to what extent Beethoven’s genuine improvisations sounded like his own sonatas to his audience. Some contemporaries say they were even better… (Czerny, 1993.)
Notwithstanding these issues, Volodos’ assertion that improvising is the core of playing music reflects a basic attitude that we think is worth recommending to every musician. If we compare music with language, improvising is like actively speaking a language. Who would be satisfied with an actor who knows how to pronounce his text, but is unable to formulate his own ideas in the same language? Classical musical languages threaten to become like dead languages, and improvisation is a valuable means to reverse this process.
The big question is how? How can we be inspired by music making from the past even though it is by definition past and it is not entirely clear to what extent the improvisation skills that have come down from Liszt and Bruckner represented a general practice? This article is intended to make a start on a possible answer to this question and will above all explore an ‘improvisatory approach’ to classical music as developed among others by David Dolan (Dolan ea., 2013).
Improvising – what is it actually?
Speak to a baroque violinist, a jazz saxophonist, an organist and a classical piano teacher about improvisation and it is perfectly possible that none of them will have the same idea of what improvisation actually is. For many the word itself has a pleasant sound of freedom and spontaneity, while for others it has the pejorative associations of ‘fiddling around’. Surprisingly both these perspectives are based on a point of departure that has dubious validity. After all, how spontaneous can improvisation really be? Do we not almost always refer back to material that we already know to some extent? Perhaps this is the most important similarity between music and language: anyone who wants to say something or express themselves makes use of everything that has been said or expressed before. Just as language, music too has loci communes, literally ‘common places’, existing formulae or materials (no pejorative connotation is intended here) at various levels. This is also the trigger for one of the most comprehensive views of improvisation in the more recent literature, that put forward by the American philosopher Bruce Ellis Benson. He defines improvisation very broadly (2003): ‘to rework something that already exists (that is, ‘conveniently on hand’), and thus transform it into something that both has connections to what it once was but now has a new identity’ (ibid., 45). In this sense composing too is a form of improvisation. What counts for Benson is his opposition to the (originally theological) idea of creatio ex nihilo. Somebody who makes something does not make something from nothing but from something else. Creating is transforming; ‘God is an Improviser’ (Benson, 2013a). In this way the idea of improvisation is applied to a much broader field than music alone. It becomes a way of understanding life. Although Benson’s vision is fascinating and inspiring, from the perspective specifically of music-making, a potential tension arises. In common parlance improvisation primarily means that there is little time available for consulting or planning. In the case of musical forms of improvisation this element of time (absent in Benson’s definition) seems fundamental. In other words improvisation is creating music at that very moment. The musician is making new music while performing. You could say that the music is being composed while it is being performed as Jean-Jacques Rousseau described it in his Dictionnaire de Musique dating from 1768.[iv]
Composing and improvising
Viewed in this way, improvising and composing form a continuum. The difference between the two rests not so much in the way in which new music is created as in the degree to which the new music is registered. In the case of improvising, music is extempore, created on the spot; in the case of composing, music is written in a score so that the moment when it can be played is postponed. It is a temporal difference: when composing the composer of the music has all the time to think about it and introduce changes if need be. When improvising the available time for thinking is always less than the duration of the music itself. Composed music is written down, fixed, in the form of a score.[v]
Thinking of the continuum from improvising to composing, the degree of fixation (no psychological connotation intended) of sounding music in e.g. a score can be represented by a scale. [Table 1: Fixation scale]
At both extremes of this scale are imaginary situations. At one end is totally free improvisation, each sound being completely new and in which there is no reference to existing music whatsoever: ultimate spontaneity. The input of the performer is maximal. As was pointed out above in the discussion of Benson’s view on improvisation, such a level of spontaneity must be regarded as an illusion. At the other end of the scale is total fixation: a composed piece of music that has been written down in all conceivable detail and allows no freedom whatsoever to the performer whose input is reduced to zero. The performer, at the same time, has become superfluous. Such a level of fixation is also difficult to imagine (perhaps certain forms of electronic music[vi] come close to it). For the listener the main difference between a free improvisation and music that is rigorously fixed is that the improvisation, after the performance, will only exist in his memory while the completely fixed piece can be exactly reproduced at any given moment, although the external conditions will be different. It may be argued perhaps that the improvisation can be reproduced as well by making a recording of it. However, a recording of this kind does not so much enable a repetition of the performance because an improvised performance is shaped by many parameters in a configuration that is unique for that moment; rather it helps one to relive the listening experience.
Between these two imaginary extremes there is a great grey area where music making happens within the Western music tradition. It is the area in which an improvisation in one way or another makes use of existing (sometimes composed) material; in this tradition, music that is intended to remain (or to be performed by several musicians simultaneously) is normally written down in a score with all its shortcomings, openings for interpretation and even improvisatory features. It is also the area of musical styles and thus of music that is related to other music.
Scores that invite improvisation
As we know there are major differences in the quantity of information that a score contains and thus in the scope that remains for initiatives on the part of the performer. Let us begin with an example that is not overly controversial, a composition from the baroque era that used to be aptly referred to in German as ‘Generalbasszeitalter’, the basso continuo period.
In an ensemble the basso continuo part is played by a chord instrument (usually a harpsicord or organ), and the notation offered is an approximation, namely a ‘figured bass’. It is up to the discretion of the player as to how the chords, usually indicated by numerals and symbols, are played. The player is also further free to extemporize and even introduce his own musical material as long as the harmonic base remains intact. In fact this notation provides a veritable invitation to improvise! After all that is the only way in which a player can respond to the way in which the other musicians are giving shape to their lines. The fact is that their parts are notated, but much less precisely than became usual in the course of the nineteenth century. The dynamics for example are rarely specified in baroque repertoire, leaving space for ad hoc interpretations during performance. When it happens that the other musicians unexpectedly begin to play pianissimo, the continuo player might react by reducing the realization to two parts only, or by choosing lower chord positions. Another licence that is allowed to players (or even expected from them), especially in slow movements, is the adding of embellishments (that can sometimes be quite extravagant). Here also an improvising basso continuo player will be much more flexible in responding to the spontaneous inventions of his colleagues than one who plays his accompaniment from a written out realization. A real musical dialogue can arise in this way whose unpredictability constitutes a great deal of its charm.
Unfortunately such an improvising attitude to a score, in this case explicitly asked for, contradicts a modern tendency towards seeking perfection – or should one say: the tendency to seek a modern kind of perfection? When perfection means making no mistakes, it is definitely more efficient to fix the interpretation in a very early stage of the rehearsing process than to allow for unpredictability in the form of improvisation. When it comes to recordings, this efficiency is a must: if a recording comprises many ‘takes’, as is often the case, this is most certainly an impediment to improvisation. The improvised realization will inevitably be a little different every time so that the different recording fragments will no longer segue. Something similar happens to the embellishment of compositions referred to above, a set practice in much baroque music. A written example of this, which astonishes because of its complexity, is the Amsterdam edition dating from 1702 (published by Estienne Roger) of Corelli’s Violin Sonatas opus 5, in which the original notes of the slow movements have become unrecognisable as a result of the exceptionally rich embellishment. Equally in the nineteenth century one can still find an ornamental style, for example in the solo cadenza in classical and early romantic concertos, in the bel canto repertoire or also in the improvised preludes to which Kalkbrenner referred. Here, too, recording techniques stand in the way of an improvising approach and have probably also conditioned the way we listen. What in practice often happens is that in the case of recordings (and also concerts) the realization of the basso continuo part or of the embellishments are actually written down so that the score significantly rises on the fixation scale in the direction of compositions where many more aspects have been put down in writing.
The fixation scale
If we place basso continuo playing in a position halfway along the fixation scale, what forms of music making do we encounter if we move left along that scale from the middle in the direction of free improvisation? First of all we encounter improvisation in which the harmony is set but the execution allows a greater degree of freedom than a basso continuo player is permitted, as in the earlier-mentioned simple preludes of Czerny [illustration 1: C. Czerny: Models for preluding in the Anleitung zum Fantasieren auf dem Pianoforte op. 200] or the improvised cadenzas in the style of Mozart. The Hungarian Dances that Brahms improvised with violinist Reményi (and notated years later) can also, approximately, be localised here since for the most part they probably contained pre-existing material.[vii] A little further in the direction of free improvisation are the freer preludes as Czerny and Kalkbrenner describe them, or a more extensive solo cadenza in the style of Hummel or Beethoven. Freer still are the fantasies on opera themes such as those that Liszt must have improvised or improvised sonatas like those encountered in the French organ tradition of Franck, Vierne and Dupré.[viii] The most free manner of improvising within classical music was perhaps the ‘Freye Fantasie’ as described by C.Ph.E. Bach, because in this case the form too was completely open. This point of departure was further developed for example in Beethoven’s free improvisation, as described in diverse sources.[ix]
If we move to the right from the imaginary centre of the fixation scale where we had placed basso continuo playing, so in the direction of the more written forms of music making, we encounter various stages of fixation in the form of scores. A little more precise than a basso continuo part are the ‘Préludes non mésurés’ which can be found in the French harpsichord suites of Louis Couperin for example: here it is the execution of the rhythm that offers (a lot of) scope for improvisation [illustration 2: L. Couperin: Prélude non mésuré ]. From a completely different era, but comparable in this respect, are compositions by Morton Feldman. By comparison, the compositions of the Viennese classics, particularly the faster parts from sonatas and symphonies, are written down with greater precision. In the course of the nineteenth century the trend was for increasingly more aspects of music to be expressed in musical notation. The notation of dynamics became increasingly more comprehensive and after the invention of the metronome around 1820 the tempo was indicated much more accurately. Gustav Mahler’s scores were exceptionally precise for their time, prescribing practically all the aspects of playing the music down to the physical posture of the instrumentalists (‘Schalltrichter hoch!’). The twentieth century is marked by a great many developments including even more advanced forms of precise notation: a composition such as ‘Structures I’ for two pianos (1952) by Pierre Boulez would seem to expect almost mathematical precision of the performer.
The Urtext paradigm
A problem of our time is that we have developed a tendency to project the precision of Boulez in notating his ideas – and the precision that is expected from the performer of his music! – onto the way we then want to handle earlier scores. The reasons for this are complex but it is important to note the degree to which we have become imbued with this aesthetic from the late twentieth century. It is an aesthetic that assumes that a perfect performance is possible based on such an excellent score. Notation is thus seen as a code that has to be deciphered so that an unambiguous ‘truth’ will come to light – leading towards a literal reading of the score. The publication of many Urtext editions goes hand in hand with this aesthetic. These publications aim to produce the exact score just as the composer intended, stripped of any extraneous additions. The accompanying dogma is that the oldest version is also the best (because it is more original). The dogma itself is questionable, but even more importantly, it is simply impossible in some cases to establish a definitive musical notation because composers themselves produce several versions of a piece (Chopin’s Nocturnes for example, or J.S. Bach’s Johannes Passion). Nevertheless, these Urtexts in themselves are often beautifully produced publications that usually contain critical notes. Where things take a wrong turn is when we use these editions from an ‘Urtext paradigm’, interpreting them to be the ‘definitive’ text too literally. Interestingly enough, this kind of paradigm continues to dominate many modern views of music not only in mainstream classical music performance but also in the field of post-1950 music analysis methods, and even in the Early Music movement and ‘Historically Informed Performance’.
The insight that improvising and composing are not two opposed activities but rather form a continuum with extensive areas of overlap offers openings for an alternative to this Urtext paradigm. The mathematical precision of Boulez in historical terms can be an exception rather than the rule; the majority of scores, certainly those from the nineteenth century, offer much more scope for an improvisatory approach than is generally recognised – even without changing a note of what is in the score. Especially in the treatment of rhythm this sometimes shows clearly. Beethoven, for instance, had the habit to notate long stretches of florid passage work in a rhythmically complex way, alternating groups of slightly different note values like sextuplets, thirty-second notes and septuplets. From the point of view of a ‘precise’, late-twentieth-century aesthetics, these subtle rhythmic differences should be performed exactly as notated – Beethoven would know how to notate his musical ideas, wouldn’t he? An example of such a performance can be heard in Maurizio Pollini’s recording (1998) of the Diabelli Variations op.120 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kUUramD0haw). Variation 31, which shows the type of notation described above, is played by Pollini in a rhythmically exact way (starting on 18’30”). However, arguing from an early nineteenth-century point of view, these passages can be seen as an attempt to notate improvisatory freedom – making the sense of freedom more important than rhythmical rigour; this interpretation seems to be at the basis of Andreas Staier’s recording from 2012 of the same piece (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WDp6csdOPyQ, from 40’09”). Many recordings made by pianists in the early twentieth century still reflect an enviably free and almost autonomous attitude in relation to the score. Such recordings are currently commanding a great deal of musicological interest.[x] It seems likely that the improvisatory attitude described above may offer ways into finding that lost freedom. This does not mean that complete interpretive arbitrariness should be the norm. Freedom certainly does not imply that anything goes. Referring to the metaphor used above: when an actor is speaking a written text in a language he is fluent in, he will be able to play with the timing and intonation, maybe even slightly altering a phrase or two, without changing the meaning of the text. The same applies to the musician Volodos was dreaming of. At the interface between interpretation and improvisation, the loci communes mentioned earlier must play an important role and be fully explored.
Improvisation in higher music education
Over the past years there has been a growing awareness in the European conservatoires of the potential and importance of renewing the work on improvisation. Consequently many new initiatives at these institutions have developed, thereby restoring the importance of improvisation and recognizing its proper place in music education. A couple of examples already exist of higher education institutions that have invested in curriculum changes that embed improvisation at the core:
From its inception in 2001, the Escola Superior de Música de Catalunya in Barcelona has included improvisation as an obligatory subject for all instrumentalists, regardless of their department.[xi] All students follow the subject for four semesters, and the broader aim is that they incorporate improvisation activities into their daily lives and practising routines. Consequently, improvisation is perceived by the students as a natural activity for a professional musician. It fulfils a mediating role between principal instrument and theoretical subjects by turning the attention systematically on concepts related to music theory and composition, but approaching them from a practical perspective, by letting students play together.
The Estonian Academy of Music and Theatre in Tallinn has been running a Masters programme in contemporary improvisation since 2011, focusing on free improvisation with influences of twentieth-century and contemporary styles. Here the emphasis is on improvisation as a performance discipline leading to the stage, rather than supporting the learning process toward becoming a ‘classical’ musician.
The Royal Conservatoire of The Hague has begun to explore ways in which improvisational elements can be integrated into more traditional disciplines of music theory and musicianship training. The idea is to replace traditional ways of teaching aural development, harmony and analysis. In short, the emphasis moves from analysis-oriented to hearing-oriented teaching and learning. The process and curriculum is described in more detail in another paper in this Special Edition (cross-reference to Konings here).[xii]
Together with other institutions such as the Guildhall School for Music & Drama in London and the Conservatoire National Superieur de Musique in Paris, above mentioned institutions have initiated a collaborative Erasmus project to connect their expertise and force a breakthrough in the renewed importance of improvisation for classical musicians.
Intensive Erasmus projects in Improvisation
In 2012-2013, three large scale improvisation projects for classical music students were hosted at the Royal Conservatoire in The Hague.[xiii] The projects formed the core of a European Erasmus Intensive programme in which twelve higher music institutions participated.[xiv] Each intensive event lasted for a consecutive 10 days, attended by 2 or 3 students and 1 or 2 teachers from each institution. A short film is available online that documents the atmosphere, activities and some personal experiences of participants in the programme.[xv]
A key finding from this project was that the students benefitted most from a programme with a great variety of improvisation styles and approaches to learning them. The last event therefore included six different strands running in parallel: classical improvisation, modal improvisation, improvisation with electronics, improvisation with theatrical aspects, and two different strands of free improvisation. Students initially signed up for a single strand, but the programme created many opportunities them to switch strands or even follow multiple workshops. Critical to the experience for the teachers was the enormous amount of creative energy that came from the students, many of whom said they had never really improvised before. Both students and teachers involved spoke of the richness of the experience and the ways in which this had influenced them as musicians on different levels. Changes they highlighted in their musical approach included: stylistic freedom, responsibility for one’s own creation, the aspect of learning from each other, cultural exchange, a changing relationship to one’s instrument, necessity of compositional thinking, awareness of the sound. It became abundantly clear from these outcomes that we need to bring the creative skills of improvisation back into the teaching of classical musicians, regardless of whether they will use improvisation to expand their interpretative options or to go on and create their own music to perform. Challenges remain in how to facilitate this across the sector, and in how to convince the professional classical music industry that improvisation is important for the next generations.
Volodos’ requirement that a musician should be able to improvise in the style of the compositions he performs, might still be too idealistic for most performers; the truth of his claim that improvisation is the core of music making however is demonstrated again and again – during special projects like the ones described above, but also in everyday teaching.
Tables and illustrations
Illustration 1
Illustration 2
Footnotes
[i] ‘The art of improvising is as good as extinct! (…) Legend has it that Johann Sebastian Bach, Mozart, Bruckner, Liszt all were brilliant improvisers. But today? Why is this art no longer cultivated?’ [translation: BM]
[ii] ‘How many of our best pianists are capable of making a prelude that is at all satisfactory? And as for the students, hardly anyone tries, in his improvisations, to exceed the perfect cadence.’ [translation: BM]
[iii] ‘I was under the impression that this art was dead; I see however, that it lives in you!’ [translation; BM]
[iv] This definition, by the way, can be found under the heading ‘Fantaisie’ (Rousseau, 1768). Rousseau gave the word improviser yet another specific meaning referring to an Italian tradition in which two masked singers think up a dialogue song on the spot with guitar accompaniment, something ‘one has had to have experienced to understand it’. (Ibid., 255.) This activity would seem to be connected to the commedia dell’arte.
[v] Though not necessarily so: music can also be handed down through an oral tradition as was the case with Gregorian chant (before it became possible for this music to be written down).
[vi] For instance: https://youtu.be/UQt95xQJhDk
[vii] For a recording by Brahms’ friend Joseph Joachim: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f-p8YeIQkxs
[viii] This tradition continued through much of the twentieth century. For an improvised piano sonata by the author, see https://soundcloud.com/bert-mooiman/bert-mooiman-improvised-sonata-on-the-harry-potter-theme.
[ix] According to Czerny, the piano introduction to Beethoven’s Chorfantasie op 80 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EIze4IMMnac, until 3’25” ) gives a good impression of such improvisations.
[x] For example Cook N (2013) Beyond the Score. New York, Oxford University Press.
[xi] ESMUC was founded in the year 2002 as an alternative to the existing music schools in Barcelona, implementing some radically new educational ideas.
[xii] See also the article by Suzanne Konings in this issue.
[xiii] IP1: 09-19 January 2012 IP2: 13-22 February 2013, IP3: 30-October – 08 November 2013.
[xiv] For further information about this project and its partner institutions see: www.koncon.nl/ii
[xv] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1y6jRH684qo
References
Benson BE (2003) The Improvisation of Musical Dialogue: A Phenomenology of Music. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 45.
Benson BE (2013a) Liturgy as a Way of Life. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 43. Cf: Benson BE (2013b) ‘In The Beginning, There Was Improvisation’. In: Improvisation (ed H Fidom), Amsterdam : Orgelpark Research Reports 3/1, available at : http://www.utopa-academie.nl/?p=lezingen&l=77 (accessed 22 April 2015), § 23 – 56.
Czerny C (1993) Systematische Anleitung zum Fantasieren auf dem Pianoforte. Vienna: A. Diabelli, 1829. Facsimile edition Wiesbaden: Breitkopf & Härtel, 43.
Dolan D, Sloboda J, Jeldtoft Jensen H, Crüts B and Feygelson E (2013) The improvisatory approach to classical music performance: An empirical investigation into its characteristics and impact. Music Performance Research Vol. 6, 1 – 38
Fidom H (2012) Muziek als installatiekunst. Amsterdam: Orgelpark Research Reports / 2, available at : http://www.utopa-academie.nl/?p=lezingen&l=77 (accessed 9 September 2014).
Kalkbrenner F (1970) Traité d’Harmonie du pianiste. Leipzig: Breitkopf et Härtel, 1849. Facsimile edition Amsterdam: Edition Heuwekemeyer.
Rousseau JJ (1768) Dictionnaire de Musique. Paris, 1768, 218
Small Chr (1998) Musicking: The Meanings of Performing and Listening. Middletown: Wesleyan University Press.
Volodos (2014) The quote [translation: BM] is taken from Arcadi Volodos in an article in the programme guide to the Master Pianists series in the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam. Brochure to Meesterpianisten Series 2014-2015, 29. Available at http://www.meesterpianisten.nl/abonnementen/online-brochures/online-bekijken (accessed 22 April 2015). The recital by Volodos took place on 8 March 2015.
Wehle GF (1925) Die Kunst der Improvisation. Münster: Musikverlag Ernst Bisping, X.