Things To Do When You Have A Creative Block

Here are a list of things that may help "unblock" you if you have a creative block.

1. Actually Take A Minute (or 10) To Think About Your Problem Carefully
When we're in a panic, we want solutions to come right away, and we get anxious when they don't.  We think very quickly, but only going around in circles, getting nowhere. Slow down and actually think the problem through clearly. Clearly define the problem in your head - perhaps write it down. Consider (and perhaps write down) any important details or hunches you may have. Make a list of plausible solutions. If you can't think of any plausible solutions, make a list of implausible solutions. There's always something.

2. Talk It Through With Someone Else
Beyond the fact that a different person will offer a fresh perspective, this is another way of accomplishing (1).

3. Go For A Walk, or Get Some Exercise
Bring a notepad and pen with you.

4. Let Yourself Play
Forget about whatever anxieties you have around this creative act. That's all silliness. Embrace John Cage's sixth rule: "Nothing is a mistake. There's no win and no fail, there's only make." Just make some stuff, and have fun! Have a sense of humor about it. Perhaps allow yourself a designated amount of time to play with any idea that comes to you. Even if what you're creating doesn't end up being used in your final product, it will get you in a creative mode, and it will help you explore your problem and work with the materials involved.

5. Watch This Video Of John Cleese Talking About Creativity
It's great. http://youtu.be/f9rtmxJrKwc Or this TED talk. Or, (less so, in my opinion) this TED talk. Actually, here is a list of 10 TED talks about creativity.

6. Have Some Faith In Your Unconscious Mind
When we're stressed, we want to control everything and know all the answers, but our unconscious mind can only start working on a problem when we allow ourselves to relax, and learn to tolerate the discomfort of not knowing.  Keep your mind gently around the problem, but don't push or strain. If you can, sleep on it or allow the problem to mull around in the back of your mind for several days.

7. Leave a Record
As you come up with ideas, record them in some way - perhaps by jotting them down in a notebook - even if they seem like bad or unhelpful ideas.  This helps in a lot of ways: it slows down and helps you work through your thinking process; it makes you feel like you're doing something; and it the ideas may end up being useful at some point down the road, often in unexpected ways.

8. Just Get To Work
I once asked Dave Holland how to overcome composer's block. He told me "Just get to work." If we're honest with ourselves, a creative block is often not actually about not having any ideas - it's about procrastination. If you have an idea that works, and nothing else is coming to you, go with that idea and get 'er done.

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John Cage's 10 Rules

I saw this on Facebook and I thought it related to some of the themes in this blog. Not sure I agree with everything... but then rule #10 sort of makes it all work out, doesn't it?

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Thoughts On Performing, Focus, Zen, and Hayoun Leaving

Last night I played a great gig with Circles at the Annex Live, with Parc-X Trio opening for us.  This morning I had some thoughts about what might be the best way to direct one's mind while playing the sort of music Circles plays - music that is sometimes tricky technically, but is also very improvisational.  On the one hand, you are looking to be creative and play something new, but on the other hand, it isn't totally free - there are certain guidelines and things you need to get right. So there are two challenges. (Or at least two challenges, anyway!) So where do you direct your attention? How do you use your mind so that you can accept inspiration and hopefully make the music better in a subjective sense (e.g. more expressive, interesting, inspiring, etc.) while still keeping it of a high quality in an objective sense (e.g. playing the right notes, playing with good rhythm, playing in tune, etc.).


There are lots of things you could think about in trying to make a piece of music more expressive.  Sometimes I think about something which is emotionally evocative to me that I think connects with the feeling of the music somehow. For example, if it is a love song, I could think about someone I love and how I feel about them. Or, for example last night was the last gig Circles will play with our piano player Hayoun Lee before he moves to Korea, so I was thinking about that sometimes. But that sort of thinking is kind of dangerous - it is easy (for me anyway) to get off on some train of thought, and before you know it, I've missed a shot or a chord or something. On the other hand, it can be helpful - it can give a little inspiring boost of emotional intensity.  I think it is best if kept very abstract, for example, just calling a person or situation to mind, without thinking about any specific issues or ideas that relate.


Another thing you can think about is planning ahead in the song. Like at one point last night when we were playing the song Little Candles Hayoun was on his third chorus, and I had expected him to take only two (although I was glad he took an extra one because it was sounding great) so I was thinking "I really doubt he will take a fourth chorus, so that means the melody is almost certainly coming up after this chorus, and in rehearsal he built his solo up a lot at the end which sounded great going into the melody, so I'm going to try to build this even more and see if we can do something similar this time, but even better." This type of thinking is necessary to a certain extent, but again, it is easy for me to think too much, and then it takes me away from the music, and I'm liable to make a mistake.


I think the best way to focus your mind, especially with this kind of music, but it would probably apply to other types of music as well, is to listen to yourself and the other musicians. Focusing on listening solves many problems. First of all, only by listening carefully can you play in tune and with good rhythm. Secondly, it becomes like a meditation, and it clears the mind. You aren't thinking about ideas, so you don't get lost in a train of thought. You stay focused. Thirdly, you experience what your fellow musicians are playing, and instead of just having your own ideas about what should happen next, you can pick up on theirs. You become a team.  Also you get energy and inspiration from them. Whoever seems most inspired at any given moment, you can listen to what they are playing and draw from that. Then later on at some other point, maybe you will lend them some of your energy. Fourth, by listening, you focus on the present moment, rather then creating expectations about what will happen next. Of course, unless you are playing totally "free" music, you always have some plan or expectation of what will happen next - e.g., we're going to follow this chord progression, this form, etc. - but if you sort of leave thinking about that up to the periphery of your mind, and focus on the present moment, then you have the possibility of being very spontaneous. It can seem like magic. For example, the band suddenly becomes quiet, or loud, or you realize that in one beat, the drums are going to decide to drop out, so you drop out with them. Of course this type of "magic" comes not only from being very focused in the moment but also from playing together a lot, so that you develop a group intuition.


I see this all as relating sort of to my meditation practice (I've done Zen meditation with varying degrees of regularity over the past fourteen years).  I know other jazz musicians have been inspired by Zen, for example Bill Evans and bass players Scott LaFaro and Gary Peacock, both idols of mine. I've noticed that on the rare and precious occasions when through meditation I manage to achieve a fairly clear mind, everything I experience becomes beauty.  Sights, sounds, tastes - even the most "mundane" - everything is wonderfully beautiful. I've come to suspect that the experience of what we call "beauty" is a byproduct of all perception, but usually our perception is somewhat dull, and the lessened beauty-experience is covered up by our distracted and cluttered mind. When the mind becomes clear, perception is enhanced because more mental resources can be directed to it, and the clutter is removed, so you notice the beauty-experience, which is more powerful. I'm reminded of the quote by Henry David Thoreau: "You cannot perceive beauty, but with a serene mind."  Just as I've found that a clear mind precipitates beauty, I've also found it goes the other way - that strong aesthetic experiences create a clear mind. I'm sure many people have experienced this - we see or hear a beautiful work of art, and we're awestruck, and our mind just empties of its own accord.

On an even deeper level, I think that you have to trust that even without thinking about meaning, it is there. In the present moment, everything that makes me who I am is there. So if I'm playing a ballad or a love song, I don't have to deliberately decide "okay, I'm going to think about my girlfriend now" for my relationship and my experiences with my girlfriend to inspire my playing. Those neuro-connections are there no matter what I do. If I try to deliberately express something, perhaps that is less honest then if I just focus on the moment and "allow" something to be expressed - even if I never really know what it is. It all happens on a level below (or beyond?) conscious thought. If you have this kind of trust, either as a performer or a listener, the music takes on a depth of meaning beyond what you can put into words, or even understand with your thinking mind.

I think those two things - the possibility of real spontaneity, especially as a group, and the trust that everything that I've ever thought or felt is present in each moment somehow - is what is most exciting for me about this approach of focusing on listening combined with performing improvisational music. If I'm open and receptive, amazing and unexpected things could happen! And I don't mean just musically, but emotionally and spiritually as well. That makes me excited, and before long I'm drawn into a creative flow. Also, the whole "beauty-experience" is very inspiring for me.

But sometimes things don't feel inspiring. If things aren't "happening", then I think it is best to just focus on listening and do your job, which for me as a bass player means keep the form, play the roots, play with good rhythm, play in tune, etc. If you clear your mind and focus on listening, maybe you will tap into the sources of inspiration mentioned above - maybe not.  At any rate, you need to do your job.  Because that's the other side of the whole experience - even though it is so amazing and profound, at the same time it is very ordinary and mundane. Perhaps this is expressed by this Chinese poem:

Rozan famous for its misty mountains;
Sekko for its water.
When I could not see them,
never was I free from the pain of longing!

I went and I returned.
It was nothing special:
Rozan famous for its misty mountains;
Sekko for its water.

Or by a famous Zen saying: “Before enlightenment: Chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment: Chop wood, carry water.” Or, to quote a more contemporary, western voice:

There's nothing you can do that can't be done.
Nothing you can sing that can't be sung.

Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time - it's easy.

I once asked Hayoun what he thought about while he played, and he told me that he sort of meditated on the sound of the ensemble. Maybe that is when I first started thinking about these ideas. I've always been very inspired by Hayoun's approach to playing music because it seems to me that he's always been very dedicated to making music from a space of being present and open to possibilities, and I think that makes the whole experience of his art richly meaningful and exciting. That's my impression anyway - Hayoun is a man of many thoughts and few words (unlike me, as this blog post evidences!).  Hayoun certainly plays unexpected things sometimes, which keeps me on my toes. Check out his blog to gain some insight into his thinking. I'm certainly going to miss him when he moves to Korea in a few days. I'll look forward to the next time we play together - whenever and wherever the universe decides that will be!

P.S. I'd love to hear what other artists or art lovers thought about this subject. Post a comment!

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Creativity in Music Composition (U of T Masterclass)

I just got back from doing a master class for the jazz department at U of T.  I think it went pretty well! The presentation was about creativity in music composition, and how fears and anxiety can get it the way of that. Here is a link to download the slides that I used.


Here are links to the two videos I played clips from:

• A TED Talk by Elizabeth Gilbert on nurturing creativity by externalizing inspiration.
• Louis CK speaking at a memorial for George Carlin, expressing how he was inspired by George's prolificness.

These are the posts on my blog that contributed to the presentation in some way. I'd recommend the "Wrap Up and Analysis" as a good place to start if you aren't looking for anything specific.  It includes a list of all the books that were recommended to me during the interviews.

• Composers' Process Project: Wrap Up and Analysis
• Interview with Composer Christine Bougie
• Interview with Composer Allan Gilliland
• Interview with Composer David Binney
• Interview with Composer Andrew Downing
• Interview with Composer Dave Wall
• Writer's Block and "A Song of Ice and Fire"
• An Interview With Myself About Composition
• Books About Creativity That I Love (or at least own)
• Rest and Play: Enjoying Getting Stuff Done

If anyone has any feedback or other ideas or resources about composition or creativity, I'd love to hear about it - post a comment!

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Composers' Process Project: Wrap Up and Analysis

For those of you just tuning in, the Composers' Process Project is an assignment I'm doing as part of my masters in jazz at U of T.  I've interviewed five composers (six if you count the interview with myself), transcribed the interviews, and posted them on this blog (click here to see all the related posts).  This post will formally conclude the project (and all my course work for my masters!), although I may post interviews with artists on this blog in the future. I've learned a lot - sometimes about unexpected things. For example, I learned a lot about how to conduct an interview! I really enjoyed doing this project, and I found the whole process very beneficial - even the part where I was just typing out the dialogue, which was what I spent most of my time doing, as it turned out.  Despite being time consuming, it gave me an opportunity to reflect on what had been said. It amazed me how much I missed in normal conversation - people were trying to tell me things that I totally didn't pick up on until I listened back to the recording and wrote down every word!

That was what I got out of the process... what did I actually learn from what people said?  There is a lot to summarize - the interviews together take up 51 single-spaced typed pages, and that is just the edited-down versions!   I'll start with the most concrete observations and progress to more abstract conclusions.

Word-Frequency Analysis

Here is an analysis of the frequency that various words appeared in the conversations.  I picked words that appeared in more than one interview:

112  music
 59  idea(s)
 46  jazz
 39  listen/listening
 36  sound
 32  piano
 25  chord
 17  love
 15  enjoy
 14  language
 14  voice
 12  classical
 12  mind
 10  pretty
  9  clarity
  9  weird
  8  beautiful
  7  Stravinsky
  6  Ellington
  5  Bartok
  5  Wayne
  5  Metheny

Recommended Books

Me: The Gifts of Imperfection, The Creative Habit
Dave Wall: Techniques of the Contemporary Composer, Theory of Harmony (Schoenberg), My Musical Language
Andrew Downing: The Shaping Forces In Music
Alan Gilliland: Jazz Arranging and Composition: A Linear Approach, What To Listen For In Music, The Study of Orchestration, Inside The Score, Composer to Composer, Charles Ives: A Life With Music, Gil Evans: Out of The Cool: A Life With Music, Hallelujah Junction, Bela Bartok: An Analysis of His Music
Christine Bougie: The Creative Habit, On Writing (Steven King), Songwriters on Songwriting

David Binney was the only one who didn't recommend any books, saying only "I've never studied any of it."

Admired Composers

Here is a list of the composers that people said they admire:

Matt: David Binney, John Coltrane
Dave Wall: György Ligeti, Steve Reich, Arvo Pärt, Xenakis, Alfred Schnittke, Todd Sickafoose
Andrew Downing: Stravinsky, Shostakovich, Prokofiev, Bill Frisell, Alfred Schnittke
Dave Binney: Wayne Shorter, Stravinsky, Aaron Copland, Pat Metheny, Joni Mitchell
Alan Gilliland: Stravinsky, Prokofiev, Shostakovitch, Debussy, Richard Strauss, Mauler, John Corigliano, John Adams, John Williams, Korngold, Bernard Herrmann, Art Herman, Michael Giaccino, Ellington/Strayhorn, Gershwin, Bernstein, Metheny
Christine Bougie: Joni Mitchell, Ry Cooder

As we saw earlier from the word-frequency analysis, Stravinsky is a popular composer - his name was the first word out of Andrew Downing & Alan Gilliland's mouth, and the second composer mentioned by Dave Binney. Ellington/Strayhorn, and Wayne Shorter were also spoken of with reverence. Shostakovich, Schnittke, Prokofiev, Metheny, and Joni Mitchell all got repeat mentions as well. I'm a little surprised Bartok didn't figure more prominently - I always thought he was the Mt. Everest of 20th century composition. Of course, as Dave Binney pointed out, it is a "mind-boggling" question; it is impossible to list all the composers that one's been influenced by.  For example, I know from her blog Christine Bougie is a big fan of Bill Frisell.

Routine/Compositional Phases

David Binney was the odd one out here. He didn't admit to following any routine - he said he used to write very late at night until the early morning, but now he may write at any time of the day - and he also insisted, despite me prodding him with repeated questions, that his compositional process does not follow any phases -   "I basically put my hands on the keyboard and I just start writing."

Everyone else said that phases like research, planning, brainstorming, editing, proofreading, etc. are a part of their process. Alan Gilliland had an elegant way of putting it - "The Three C's of Composition" - Creativity, Craft, and Copying.

A common thread among those whole follow a routine is that the morning is an important time for creativity. Alan Gilliland has had a habit of composing from 5-7 am for over a decade. Christine Bougie avoids checking e-mail until the afternoon so that her mind can be clear for creativity. Dave Wall says "I just get up and I start writing." I liked what Dave Wall said about not forcing himself to compose for an extended period - instead, he composes only as long as he feels like it, and strings together many sessions that might range in length from 5 minutes to 2 hours. David Binney and Christine both alluded to similar approaches.  I've tried to practice Dave Wall's technique since the interview, and it's worked well for me so far. For those of us who lack the discipline to follow a routine like Alan's - for example, me - Dave Wall's approach might a workable solution.

What do you consider the most important principle(s) of good composition?

This was a difficult question, but it was one that I ask myself a lot.  When something is good, why is it good? That's the mystery.  I really do believe that there is something similar going on with all my favorite compositions - from "Blackbird" by the Beatles to Cello Prelude #1.  Defining what that is, however, turns out to be a difficult task.

Me: Elegance
Dave Wall: Clarity
Andrew Downing: Consistency (details of a composition that makes it feel like itself)
Dave Binney: "just whether I enjoy it or not"
Alan Gilliland: Clarity

It seems somewhat remarkable that both Alan and Dave Wall chose "clarity" out of all the available words in the English language.  Does it have something to do with the fact that they are the two "classical" composers? In a broader sense, there did seem to be a theme of clearly communicating something to the audience, with Dave Binney again being the odd one out.  He insisted "I'm seriously not ever judging music other than if I like it or not."

Have you experienced composers block? How did you deal with it?

The thing that got this whole project started was my struggle to overcome composer's block, so I was pretty surprised that the general response to this question was to shrug and say "not really." However, I still got some useful advice when people explained what they felt was the reason for them not experiencing it.

Me: yes. acknowledge your fears and decide to proceed anyway
Dave Wall: no, ideas are a dime a dozen
Andrew Downing: no, even if you end up throwing things away, that's still part of the process
Dave Binney: no, it is just easy for me, it is my natural language
Alan Gilliland:  no, even if you end up throwing things away, that's still part of the process

As you can see Andrew and Alan both had similar things to say.  I think their point of view could help me avoid becoming negative during my process. Also Dave Wall's point that the important thing is how you develop your material, not what you start with, seems a good bit of perspective. Overall, I was struck by how nonchalantly everyone answered "no". It changed how I thought about the creative process. I may have felt like suffering a bit was an important part of it, but it seems more like good music comes from enjoying yourself. Dave Binney in particular - one of my favorite composers - talked about how much he enjoyed the entire process, from composition to performing to recording to listening - and how he was driven by his love and excitement for music.

What mistakes do inexperienced composers make?

This one surprised me because of how little agreement there was. I guess there are a lot of mistakes to make! However, there did seem to be a common theme that inexperienced composers do not develop themes and use repetition enough, and end up putting too much stuff in.


Me: "over-doing things"
Dave Wall: too much material, not respecting the use of repetition
Andrew Downing:  don't think about the total sound, don't think about the instrument
Alan Gilliland: don't stick with a theme/idea; lack notation skills

What do you find to be the greatest challenge of composition?

There was little agreement on this one as well - even more so. It seems everyone finds composition challenging in a different way.


Me: overcoming my fears and anxieties
Dave W: "To never be boring. To keep it unified, but always changing."
Andrew Downing: to let go of a piece and stop revising it; to not be derivative
Alan Gilliland: keeping the business side of things going
Christine Bougie: writing from the place that I am yet not to repeat myself



Why compose?


There were a lot of answers for this one.  They included (in order of my subjective judgement of popularity): the joy of having created something uniquely your own, enjoying the act of composing, expressing something you couldn't otherwise, and curiosity about music.


How do you want to develop as a composer in the future?

Again there were a lot of different answers for this one.

Me: connecting to audience through mastering form
Dave Wall: have a tangible effect on audience
Andrew Downing: be better about thinking about forms
Dave Binney: "I don't have any goals with it, I just want to keep kind of moving forward."
Alan Gilliland: explore jazz & classical music


Themes and General Impressions


Each interview made an impression on me and left me with many things to think about.  For example, with Christine, the word I left with was "honest", which she used several times in our conversation. I'd never really thought about whether or not my compositions were honest - just whether they did what I wanted them to do!  (Dave Wall also used the word "honest".)  I think the most exciting interview for me was Dave Binney, because I'm such a big fan of his music, and I do want to emulate some of his style, and I have actually spent a lot of time wondering "How does he make this stuff? What is he thinking? What is his process?" I feel like I have a better understanding on that, although it seems like it is a bit of a mystery to Binney as well - which may be key to why his compositions are so fascinating to me, as I also find they have a sense of mystery to them.

There were also several themes that I noticed over all the conversations. One was the debate of writing for the instrument - i.e. with the instrument in mind first, coming up with something that is easy to play on that instrument - vs. writing for the sound - i.e. thinking of what sound you want first, and then thinking about how to make instrument(s) produce that sound.  Other issues that had to be considered included:

• trying to be yourself or to not overdo things vs. trying to push yourself or discover new possibilities
• imitating or emulating other composers vs. trying to be original
• writing for yourself vs. writing for the audience
• experiencing the piece moment to moment vs. experiencing the piece as a whole
• the language, values, and traditions of jazz vs. the language, values, and traditions of classical music

One thing that unified everyone was the idea of finding an original voice. Which reminds me of something I said to Alan in what seems to be, looking back, a moment of clarity for me: "I'm more interested in just getting the courage to check out those twelve notes on my own. I've been to school for ten years, I know tonnes of theory, I just need to inspire myself to find my own ways." This assignment concludes my Masters Degree in Jazz Performance. On to new adventures!
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Interview with Composer Christine Bougie

Christine Bougie is a guitarist, lap-steal player, and a composer music that defies genre categorization - blending jazz, rock, and pop into intricate, catchy and very approachable instrumental tunes.  She's made three albums of original music – Hammy's Secret Life, This is Awesome (a collaboration with Dafydd Hughes) and Aloha Supreme.  Besides the fact that I'm a big fan of her music, I was particularly interested in interviewing Christine because she is a fellow blogger, and a fellow process geek.  Like me, she frequently blogs about her creative process, and also like me, she often invents somewhat elaborate systems in relation to that – for example, she's a poster-girl for the online time-tracking website, Freckle.

This was actually the first interview I did as part of my composer's process project (the interview took place back in early April), and I was a little shy about stepping into the interviewer's role. As a result, it has a more conversational tone than the other interviews. Which I think is kind of nice in a way. You tell me.

Check out these two Southern Souls videos that just happen to be of my two favorite songs by Christine.  To learn more about her or follow her blog (highly recommended), visit www.christinebougie.com.


"Me Her" (from Aloha Supreme)


"Hammy's Secret Life" (from Hammy's Secret Life)

Christine Bougie: The Twyla Tharp book [The Creative Habit] is good – did you read the Steven King book – On Writing? It's great. It gave me a lot of ideas. At the beginning of this writing period I was re-reading both of those books and underlining.

Matt Roberts: It's cool that those are both books by people who are in different art forms than music.

CB: Totally. But I noticed a lot of similarities. Like there's a part where Tharp talks about what her process is – just in a couple of pages – and it was exactly what I do, weirdly. She says she goes in a room, and just starts dancing to nothing, and video tapes herself, and then reviews that and picks stuff to work with afterwards.

The Steven King book is really great too because he's so no-bullshit. Just blue-collar.

MR: Steven King is very prolific.

CB: Yeah, he's just constantly writing. In the book, he explains his schedule: “I wake up, I spend three hours on the current project, then the afternoon is for naps and letters, and night time is for watching T.V. and hanging out with the family.”

MR: I just got this book, The Art Spirit by Robert Henri. He was a modernist painter in the early 20^th century. The book is a collection of letters he wrote to his students. He has a kind of romantic notion of art that I find inspiring. For example, at one point he says that he went to the Paris Conservatory, and people were there who were practising copying paintings who had been there for ten years, only learning to become better copyists. But he believes a true artist seeks to have some kind of original voice that can convey some sense of truth.

CB: That's good, you have to get past that imitating phase at some point. What do you think about the Kenny Werner stuff?

MR: I first met him at [The] Banff [Jazz Workshop in Jazz and Creative Music], and I attended his week-long workshop on his “Effortless Mastery” concepts.

CB: How was it? I just read his book.

MR: I think the things he talked about are really cool, and everyone should think about them, but I question the exact methods he expounds to achieve those ideals – “the steps”, I think he calls them.

CB: Right, you also have to work really hard. That's what I think is missing from that whole picture.

MR: Well, when I first got into it, I was in first year, and I was very eager and maybe a little naive, and I started doing his thing where you practice going into a relaxed state, playing one note, and putting down your instrument if you felt you had gone out of that state. After a few weeks of picking my bass up and putting it down, I thought “This is silly!” I think it might be better to do something like setting a timer for 5 minutes, and making it your main priority to play in a relaxed manner until the timer goes off. However, I think the book is certainly worth reading.

CB: I had the same experience with it. I was still in school. I appreciated the story of it, at the beginning – he talks about being at school and getting wrapped up in the stress of it, and the ego. But the application of it seemed off.

MR: I think the problem for me when I sit down to write something is that I become too self-critical and too worried about what people are going to think about it, and I have a really blown up idea in my head about how great I want it to be. So when I come up with an idea, I'll reject it unless it seems like it carries a seed of something incredibly great. Which is maybe not how it works, maybe the greatness comes by taking something somewhat ordinary and working with it.

CB: I notice that too. That's the struggle. I notice that the stuff that you write that comes out naturally [is best]. You want to write so much further ahead then you are. You hear an idea of something that's more complex and developed then you are actually at.

Another thing that I notice is that I'll often be writing the same song again. I'll write something and notice that I've kind of written that before. People will say “Oh so-and-so only writes three tunes.” Like to me, Tower of Power has only two or three tunes. Their ballady thing, their crazy syncopated thing, and they just write those tunes. I'll notice myself defaulting to something. I'll be at the end of the tune, and I'll do what come out naturally, and then I'll say “Oh that's kind of like the end of these three other tunes that I've written.”

MR: I find that especially if I'm are trying to produce a lot of material, like writing a tune a week. That's the danger with trying to force yourself to produce more - that you'll just recycle.

CB: But I find that's good, just to get them all out. If I write twelve tunes in a few weeks I might use five or six of them.

MR: Yeah, you still come up with some new things each time.

CB: Exactly.

MR: I noticed that the third movement of The Little Prince Suite is sort of like the sixth movement of The Buddha Suite. But I kind of like that.

CB: Because it's your sound.

MR: Yeah, it's my signature.

CB: And you're just discovering that. It's cool to listen to stuff you came up with years ago, and you can hear, even though it is less developed, that there is something there that is kind of “you”. I hear all the stuff around it that is pretentious – trying to be something – but I also hear what is me in it. The influences are in there from the beginning.

Sometimes I'll hear something I like that is inspiring to me by somebody else, and then that will make me want to write something like that, but it never turns out like that at all. With a lot of my tunes – the ones that turned out well – I can hear where the idea came from, and I can remember that it was inspired by something else but it just became something completely different in the end.

MR: I've had that experience as well – it's nice!

CB: It's great, because you can just steal things from things you like, and there's no danger that you're copying because it just won't turn out like that.

MR: Robert Henri said something like “Don't worry about being unique, because you can't help but be unique.”

CB: I was writing something the other day which came out really quick. I played it for Ali and she said “This sounds like something...” It turned out it was “For Once In My Life” by Stevie Wonder. It was a bit different – it was slower, and there were a few changes, but basically that was it.

MR: Yeah, the fourth movement of the Little Prince Suite starts with a melody that is exactly Blue in Green. Same key and everything. I'm a little uncomfortable with that! [laughs]

CB: Just change one thing. I'm going to go back to that tune and change a couple things.

So do you write everyday?

MR: Well, yes, I have this calendar on my wall which I put a mark on each day if I composed that day, and I try to have a mark on each day. But it hasn't been very hard lately, because I've sort of entered a crisis phase with The Little Prince Suite – we're going to perform it in two weeks. The amount of writing I've produced has increased exponentially over the last two years as the deadline approaches. Which is interesting, because for the most part I still like what I'm coming up with almost as much. Although the recent stuff is tending to be less intricate and complicated.

I went to the Dave Holland Clinic at Humber just this past week, and asked him what he did when he had writers block. He said “Just get on with it - at a certain point fear takes over.” If you come up with an idea at the start of the process, you think “I'll have a better idea later.” But as the deadline approaches that becomes “I have an idea – good enough, let's go with this!”

CB: I read an interview with Paul Simon once, and his view was that writer's block comes from trying to write beyond where you are. I think it was in that “Songwriters on Songwriting” book – have you seen that? It's a great, fat book of mostly singer-songwriter people, and the interviewer is really good - he does a lot of research for each person, and their writing process.

MR: That sounds great, I'll get that book for sure! I just read this book called The Jazz Composers Companion. The last chapter is all interviews with composers. They all have very different things to say about composition – for example Chick Corea talks about “spiritual games”, while Pat Metheny is more technical, he talks about writing things so he can enjoy improvising over them.

CB: I think for me making a physical space to sit down and write is very important. I didn't have a room to write in. We had instruments scattered in different rooms. Once I managed to set up a space and decided “This is what I'm going to do everyday – I'm going to practise in this chair, this room, with this stuff, here is my loop station, my music stand...” Then the habit part of it became much easier. Also not going online until a certain time of the day.

MR: Right – you don't go online until 1 o'clock or noon, because you'll get sucked into it?

CB: If I wake up at 10 and I'm checking my email at 10:15, and like yesterday there was e-mails with some mixes of some songs I did on somebody's album, and I have to listen to them and make notes, and then there is a gig coming up on Friday, and how am I going to get there...

MR: That takes a lot of energy.

CB: Yeah, if I would wake up in the morning and put that in my brain, I wouldn't be able to concentrate on writing music. Your brain needs to be a little bit empty for that. Also with practising. I was never very good at daily practising, but I've been doing that for the last couple months. I've been enjoying it, and find that it has to be the first thing I do in a day for me to get into it. I think it is a little like meditation – because even though it is different in the sense that you're very busy trying to do something, it is similar in that you notice when your thoughts are interrupting you. I've been going through the second Berkley guitar book [A Modern Method for Guitar] where it is just a couple pages of scales – like a C major scale in five positions, ascending and descending, it takes like eight minutes to read through a few pages straight. If I screw up something simple, I find it is because I'm thinking about something else – say an e-mail I have to send. The later in the day I leave that work until, the worse it gets.

MR: I'm studying classical music right now. I find it more therapeutic to practise classical music, because is more technical.

CB: Yes, I'm just doing scales – for 15 minutes or something, and I love it, because it is kind of brainless in a way.

MR: I have trouble keeping track of time. Recently my girlfriend was sitting on my bed while I was composing, and she said to me afterwards “You spend about half your time on Facebook and YouTube. It finally makes sense to me how much trouble you have composing.”

CB: Yeah, I usually have to turn the computer off. Or, if I'm doing something on the computer, I have a timer program. I usually set things for either 45 minutes or 15 minutes. 15 minutes if it is something that I've really been procrastinating on – 15 minutes at least gets me started. I learned that from Rob McBride – he's my practising roll model. He does 45 minute chunks with 15 minute breaks – real breaks – he says he goes and waters his plants, or if it is nice he'll go outside. Because the 15 minute Facebook break – I do that too, but I noticed that it's not a real break. But it is hard to do that, if you are doing something in Sibelius that is hard, tedious work, and all the entertainment is one click away.

MR: I find I have this base-level of anxiety when I'm composing, and if I anything causes a spike in that I'm like “I'm going to see what's on Facebook...”

You know, I used to be very strict with scheduling. I had a Palm Pilot and I used to set alarms - 10am: practice scales. 10:45 take a break. 11 am: practice arpeggios. But right now I'm thinking of it in a more personal/emotional way – what is it that is causing me stress about this? I'm not sure how well it is working for me though...

CB: Yeah, I've given up on the idea of practising for a huge amount of time – you hear stories of people practising 8 hours a day. But I don't think that is really possible, if you're eating and doing all the things you have to do in a day. As a society we think of people working 8 hours a day – like “nine to five” – but when I've had real jobs, I've found you're not actually working for 8 solid hours. So when you're on your own being creative, you realize 3 hours is probably what you're really doing in an 8 hour work day.

MR: If I can get a consistent hour of practise in everyday, I feel really good about that. I can get a lot done in an hour. I think I can be a bass player worth listening to with an hour of practise each day.

CB: It is weird to put a time on writing too. I do kind of start a clock when I'm writing, but more than any other activity, writing is something that I don't religiously measure the time of. Because I find that sometimes I may be doing something else, like practising scales, and I'll just get into writing. Or I might be watching a movie and I'll just grab the guitar and play something I was working on. I can't really say: “I'll write from 10 to 11. That's it.” You're always kind of writing if you're in the middle of something.

MR: Yeah, one of my interview questions was going to be “Where do your ideas come from?” But I asked myself that, and I thought - “Well, I guess from every moment of my life...”

CB: Did you ever answer the questionnaire in the Twyla Tharp book? It like that. It's about your creative autobiography or something. Like on question was “What was the first creative idea you remember having?” I remember writing a story in grade 1, and I remember how my teacher liked it, and the feeling I got from people noticing that and saying that I was creative. That's a big deal – getting a reward for something that is easy or natural. Or “What's the best idea you've had?” or “What's the worst idea you've had?”

MR: Yeah it is interesting how writing about something can help clarify your thoughts on it. I feel that way about my blog.

CB: For sure. I've started blogging less lately – I was writing three times a week and I went down to once a week because I'm doing so much other stuff. It's good to take a break from telling the world what you're doing so often. But it did help me focus, and it made projects out of just rough ideas. If I had ideas and I started writing about it, it became like a real thing. It helped me get my last album together. Especially with the fundraising thing, because then other people's money was involved, so I thought “Now I've got to get it done!”

MR: What do you find to be the greatest challenge of composition?

CB: Writing from the place that I am.

MR: Because that causes a block, or because that causes bad compositions?

CB: Both I guess, because it will end up causing a block, but in the short term you start grasping at things that you're not there yet. For me, it could be harmonically maybe – I might want to write something that's more dense than I can actually hear, because I appreciate that when I listen to other writers. But it's not natural for me to do that. If I hear something that's in my head and I play it on the instrument and I realize that it is just a plain “G” chord, I shouldn't try to make it weird by adding this and that. It's strange, because you have to push yourself at the same time.

Also, like we were talking about, not writing the same tune over and over. I feel like I can default to certain structures.

MR: I found Twyla Tharp's thing where she makes people come up with 50 different ways to do a particular motion is very helpful with that. If you force yourself to come up with many ways of doing something simple, the first few are going to be your usual way of thinking, but then you are going to have to become inventive.

CB: Yeah, and they come out of your head too, right? I guess it is a challenge not to grasp beyond where you are, but then it is also a challenge not to repeat yourself. You've got to find some middle ground.

I was talking to my friend Mike Holt – he's a songwriter. He is very pure about how he writes his tunes. He never sounds like he is grasping for something that's not natural to him, yet the harmony's interesting, and it isn't over-simplified or anything. He says he only writes in his head first, before he goes to any instrument. He says he dreams his songs a lot of the time, and he'll wake up and hum them in his head for a while before he gets to the keyboard. So that way you're only playing the things that you're actually hearing. On the guitar, my fingers can do things that my brain is not really hearing. Which is cool because it can break you out of your usual thinking. But you're not actually hearing that, honestly.

So in my last chunk of writing tunes I sat at a keyboard – because that's a little bit less familiar to me. I had a wurlitzer in my house for a while. Usually what I do is as soon as I have something I like, I turn on the loop station and record that. Rather then that, I spent a week on the wurlitzer, trying to play what I was hearing, and not recording anything or writing it down, and then the next day I would try to play what I played the day before. So only what would stay in my brain is worth sticking to.

MR: Yes, I've done that to – I have all my ideas written down in a book, but often I will start out by trying to remember what is in the book without opening it. And I realized that I naturally remember only what had the most emotional connection for me.

CB: It's a way of finding the real honest stuff in it, and taking away the “trying to be clever” stuff.

So I did that for a week, and I came up with a tune at the end of it, and then I recorded it. That was good, but it was a harder process. Now I'm using the guitar again. But I might try that again, like for a week. Just to do something different.

MR: Have you seen those song-a-day blogs?

CB: Yeah, I researched that before I started doing this song-a-week thing, which was near the beginning of the year, coinciding with blogging less. I had the urge to make a blog thing about it. But I decided that I didn't want to show what I was doing during doing it, for the same reason I didn't want to show Ali my ideas before they were done to me. Even though that way you can get feedback.

MR: What composers or compositions do you admire?

CB: I've been listening a lot again to Joni Mitchell. I started listening to Joni when I was 15 or something, getting into the 70's stuff. And I've just been getting into her earlier stuff – the super folk-y stuff, I was more into the jazz period. I've been into Blue and going backwards. I recently learned a bunch of her tunes for a Joni Mitchell tribute show. I'd always kept her music a mystery to me, because of the weird tunings. When I learned the tunes I realized that the song structures weren't that weird, it was just the voicings of the chords, because she had all weird tunings.

MR: I find her compositions are so unique, but not in a showy way – it always seems to serve the meaning and the effect of the song.

CB: I'm not writing lyrics or anything, and there's not much melody to a lot of her songs – but the music always fits the mood of what she's talking about so well. That gets me the most.

I kind of got into Ry Cooder's latest album to the point where it is an album that I would put on everyday. But for what reason I don't know. It's bluesy, and it's songwriting. It's weird – I don't listen to music that reminds me of the kind of music that I write. I used to listen to a lot more guitar players – Metheny and Scofield – and now I can't really listen to them.

MR: One last question: Why compose?

CB: As opposed to just recording other people's stuff? I did record a Beach Boy's cover on my last album. I feel like composing is the best way to leave your mark. I have a desire to actually make something tangible that will last. Making an album is a work of art. It's the work I want to do as a musician - I want to have a body of work. I used to focus more on improvising. That was what excited me about music. But composing is improvising – when you compose something you're making it up, you just spend a bit more time crafting it.

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Interview with Composer Dave Wall

Dave Wall is an Edmonton based composer/performer.  He did the jazz guitar program at Grant MacEwan College in Edmonton, got an undergrad in composition, which led to a composer-in- residency at the Banff Centre for the Arts, which led to a Masters in composition at UBC. He is currently a composition PhD student at the University of Alberta.  He has written for documentary films, dancers, theatre types, various classical ensembles from solo trombone to full orchestra, rock bands and jazz musicians. He has received numerous commissions and awards, and made several recordings. See his full bio here.

Here are some examples of his music:

In Medias Res (string quartet)
Compensation (saxophone quartet)

As part of my "Composers' Process Project", where I am interviewing a variety of composers about exactly how they do what they do, I recently spoke with him at The Blue Plate Diner in Edmonton.



Matt Roberts: What mistakes do inexperienced composers make?

Dave Wall: Writing too much. Not respecting the use of repetition. Too much material all at once, and not allowing stuff to breathe, and the lack of clarity that that leads to.

MR: Do you think you've grown as a composer, and how?

DW: I've worked on overcoming the problem I described in the first question.

Also, I acquired as many ideas and approaches as I could find and used them all.  When I was 17 my plan was to learn to play every single style of music there is, so I could write music and have all of that to draw from.

When I first started I was writing really simple stuff.   Then I found out about Schoenberg, and I fell in love with Elliott Carter. So I started writing stuff that's really complex.  I tried really hard not to repeat anything.  Then I started working back to making in simpler and simpler, but having it seem really complex.  And now I'm moving back to somewhere in the middle, so it is complex and not that easy to play, but it doesn't sound uninviting. When you finish listening to a piece of music you should be able to replay the whole thing in your head in a spit second and get an image of it.  If you don't write to that, it's not going to happen.  People will leave the hall not knowing what just happened - and not wanting to come back!

MR: What are the most important factors that contributed to your development as a composer?

DW: Not quitting. That's about it!

MR: Well, for example, did learning about 12-tone techniques really affect you, or a certain teacher, or a certain composition?

DW: Going to UBC. I got exposed to a lot of things.  Before that the most out thing I'd heard was Ornette Coleman.  At UBC, it was Brian Ferneyhough, Elliott Carter, Edgard Varèse... people doing stuff that was really interesting.  I thought "Oh, this means I can do anything I want..." So I tried to do everything.  But I forgot that I had to have some formal principles.  There was one piece where I kept pushing myself and pushing myself.  It was a vocal piece - SATB - and I was working with different vocal sounds.  I listed all the things that could possibly be done with voice, and I tried to do them all.

MR: What do you consider the most important principle(s) of good composition?

DW: Clarity... and clarity... and clarity!

MR: That's sort of what I said when I interviewed myself, except I said "elegance".  When a piece of music has some central idea, and every part of it seems to relate to that central idea, then it becomes elegant, and I think that is a good composition.

DW: Exactly. Clarity for me encompasses elegance.  Also, I think a sense of voice - a sense that you're trying to say something that hasn't been said. Which isn't really possible. But all I try to think about is clarity, and everything else follows.

MR: The way I feel about this idea of developing my own voice is: I'll just write, and it can't not be my own voice.

DW: Oh sure it can.  It can, if you're thinking about anything else.  If you're thinking "I hope so-and-so likes this." or "It sucked last time I did that."  You have to think while you compose, but in a sense, you don't.  I think a lot less than I used to while I compose.  If you spend 15 years, spending weeks with every piece, planning what you are going to do, and then doing it, after a while you develop technique.  At some point you just go "okay", and you write it all down, and then you tweak it, erasing stuff.  And you wind up with something that's pretty honest - although it isn't always that good!  I've tried to get to with composing where most people are at with performing - you don't think about it, you just do it.  It is obvious that with performing, if you over-think it, it isn't going to work.  If you're thinking about where you're placing your fingers, you're doomed.  Or if you're thinking "Well I went from D to Eb four bars ago, maybe I should do that again." you could be in trouble.

MR: What do you consider to be the greatest challenge of composition?

DW: To never be boring. To keep it unified, but always changing.

MR: What is your compositional process? Do you follow a routine?

DW: My wife's nickname for me is "routine boy"!  I just get up and I start writing.  There's no question that I'm going to do it.  Composing is just something that happens every day.   I do the things I don't want to do first, like working with a programming language.  I usually work until I don't feel like working any more; that could be anywhere from 15 minutes to a couple hours. Then I do something else, and come back to it.  I might do multiple sessions; they might be as short as 5 minutes. But I don't do it until I feel like "this isn't working".

Part of what makes it easy for me to write is that I know that ideas are a dime a dozen. You can have the worst ideas - actually there are no "worst ideas". It's what you do with them after the first bar.  Someone asked Bach "Where do you get your ideas?"  He said "I have a hard time not tripping over them when I get up in the morning."  Look [holds up the salt shaker] there's the form for your next piece. It's round here and square at the end, it starts out with all these little holes. [makes little-hole-like-noises]  Everywhere you look.

Mr: Are there phases to your compositional process?  For example, planning, writing, editing?

DW: Yeah, I'll write two or three minutes of music really quickly, and then I'll edit it, and often it will become about 5 minutes, because I realize there is more to it. Then I'll start writing some new material, and then revise again.

MR: Do you have any stratagems for composing?

DW: I don't do this anymore, but I used to start by writing down all the possibilities. For example, for a string quartet, I'd start by writing down all the possible ways each instrument can make sounds, then I'd make a list of each possible combination of instruments.  Then I'd make a structure; and then I'll meditate on that, and then I'll start writing. I don't do that anymore, but that really helps, especially beginning composers, because they don't think of all the possibilities. You think of all the possibilities, and then you might pick three, and then you start writing.  It's really more craft. The art is really something you can't talk about. All we've been talking about is craft.

MR: A quote I like is "The work of art is the mediator of the inexpressible."

DW: There you go. I tell my students: "Musicians are people who want to communicate something they can't communicate with language."

MR: What composers do you admire and why?

DW: The ones that are still doing it! (laughs) But actually, I mean it. I really like György Ligeti. He has a very intricate way of writing that comes out sounding very unified. He's quite adventurous but not crazy. Avant garde but still accessible.  He's got a very textural way of thinking which I'm very into. I like Steve Reich, Arvo Pärt.  Xenakis, but more for his process then how it actually sounds. Alfred Schnittke - he'll use whatever he needs to use in order to communicate what he wants to communicate, as opposed to all the guys in the 60's who said "I'm a 12-tone composer and everything else is shit." There's a lot of guys, I can't think of them all right now. Todd Sickafoose. He's more of a jazz guy.

MR: Why compose? What is the reward of composing?

DW: I've got nothing better to do! You might be asking me this question at the wrong point in my life. There are so many people out there doing it. I don't understand, anymore, why I need to compose. I don't see how me composing helps anyone except for me.

MR: That's a reason!

DW: Yeah, it makes me a better person, and then when I go out into the world, I'm a better person, so it helps that way. But there are a lot of ways I could become a better person besides writing music.

MR: Do you enjoy composing?

DW: Yeah, that's why I do it. I really enjoy it.

MR: Are there any books, CDs, DVDs, etc., that you would recommend?

DW: Techniques of the Contemporary Composer by David Cope. Arnold Schoenberg's book [Theory of Harmony]. Messiaen's book [My Musical Language].  I used the Cope book for teaching, because it is really clear.

MR: Which of your own compositions are you most proud of, and why?

DW: I like the first string quartet I ever wrote, "In Medias Res". It is really direct and clear.  I like this saxophone quartet I wrote more recently, "Compensation". I like the way it opens. There is a narrative to it, there is a reason that everything happens.  The narrative is described on my website.

If you're interested in learning more about Dave Wall or his music, visit www.davewall.org.

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Writer's Block and "A Song of Ice and Fire"

Apparently George R. R. Martin experienced some difficulties while attempting to finish the next book in his series "A Song of Ice and Fire".  (The series is the basis of a new HBO program that just premiered, A Game of Thrones - which looks like it is going to be pretty good!)


It took Martin over six years to complete his latest book, despite promising his fans to have it done within a year.  Here are some excerpts from a recent New Yorker article about the series and his challenges in completing it.

“Maybe I’m rewriting too much,” he suggested, after a fretful silence. “Maybe I have perfectionist’s disease, or whatever.” 

Martin explained that he’s been tinkering with some parts of “A Dance with Dragons” for ten years. He has a “real love-hate relationship” with a chapter that focusses on Tyrion Lannister, the dwarf: “I ripped it out and put it back in, I ripped it out and put it back in. Then I put it in as a dream sequence, and then I ripped it out again. This is the stuff I’ve been doing.” 

Such indecision, Martin suspects, may be fuelled by the mounting expectations for “A Song of Ice and Fire.” The reviews for the series have been “orders of magnitude better” than he’s received for anything else. After the fourth volume came out, Time anointed him “the American Tolkien.” Many readers have told Martin that his tale is the greatest fantasy story of all time. With the HBO show and his online critics breathing down his neck, the pressure has become even more intense. 

“I don’t want to come across as a whiner or a complainer,” Martin said, as tinted light from the afternoon sun filtered through the stained-glass windows. “No! I’m living the dream here. I have all of these readers who are waiting on the book. I want to give them something terrific.” There was a pause. “What if I fuck it up at the end? What if I do a ‘Lost’? Then they’ll come after me with pitchforks and torches.”

Obviously my situation is very different than Martin's: I don't have millions of fans, or the challenge of being consistent with a fantasy world that has thousands of characters.  My compositions aren't on the scale of fantasy novels many hundreds of pages long. But I still felt like I could relate to his anxieties, although on a smaller scale.  Every time I undertake a project, I want it to exceed expectations and be better than anything I've done before, and that leads to similar re-writing where I spend hours writing a note, changing it, changing it back... Thankfully so far I've always managed to eventually overcome that and just enjoying composing and let go of needing to be in complete control of the result.

This article in The New Yorker seems to further support my theory that writer's block is what happens when anxiety about creating becomes greater then the joy of creating.


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An Interview With Myself About Composition

As part of an independent project assignment for my masters degree at U of T, I'm going to be interviewing composers about their views on creativity.  I needed a guinea pig to try out the questions on, so I started by interviewing myself!  If you are a composer (or writer, or whatever!) and want to be part of my project, please feel free to copy these questions and send your answers to me at matt@mattroberts.ca.  I found it pretty fun actually... hopefully my interviewees will feel the same! (If you have any suggestions for questions I could ask, please leave a comment!)

• What mistakes do inexperienced composers make?
  I consider myself to be an “inexperienced composer”, so I probably lack the perspective to properly answer this question, but I'll take a stab at it anyway. I have noticed that inexperienced artists in many genres often make the mistake of over-doing things. They throw everything they know how to do into each work, because they have just discovered things and are so excited about their newly-acquired abilities. The result is that the work loses its effect because it has no subtly or unique character.
• Do you think you have grown as a composer over your career? How?
  I think I've grown tremendously over my “career” as a composer. My compositions have become much more complex and elaborate. I've also become much more comfortable writing scores (vs. leadsheets) for large ensembles. Whereas before say about 2006 my writing (especially for large ensembles) was mostly focused in trying to imitate others, now it is more focused on trying to discover a unique sounds. Also, I've gained some insight into my own compositional process, which allows me to make creativity a scheduled activity, whereas before it was more a case of “waiting for the miracle”.
• What is the first thing that comes to mind when you think back about the most important factors that contributed to your development as a composer?
  Studying Bach chorals with Bill Richards at Grant MacEwan, and arranging class with John MacLeod at Humber. And performing my own compositions over and over again. I have had the benefit of encountering many wonderful teachers. I think their encouragement was even more important than the information they gave me. They gave me the courage and the impetus to investigate things for myself.
• What do you consider the most important principle(s) of good composition?
  ELEGANCE
• Have you ever experienced “composers block”? If so, how did you deal with it? What do you think causes it?
  I think that “composers block” is basically the off-stage version of stage fright. Basically when your fear of creating something overtakes your motivation to create, you have a block. I experience this all the time. I have a lot of little stratagems for dealing with it (some of which I've outlined on this blog). Ultimately, however, I think you have to just acknowledge your fears and decide to proceed anyway.
• What do you find to be the greatest challenge of composition?
  Well, initially I definitely find overcoming my fears and anxieties to be the greatest challenge. Aside from that, the greatest challenge is to achieve that “elegance” – to arrive at a work that feels like a cohesive whole, rather than a sum of parts. Something that is properly balanced and has the right effect.
• What is your compositional process? Does it have distinct phases? Do you follow a routine?
  I wish I followed a routine, but I seem to lack the discipline to keep one for more than a few weeks. I think most processes for the type of music I'm writing lately probably go through the same phases: research, brainstorming, realization, editing, and performance/review.
• Have you developed any stratagems for helping your composition that come to mind and would be helpful to pass along?
  One thing I discovered lately and found hugely important is that during the brainstorming process, I try to make a point of writing down all the ideas I come up with – whether I think they are good or not. This is much more encouraging then just staring at a blank page telling yourself all your ideas are bad, and often some of the ideas you originally thought were bad turn out to be useful, or to lead to something that is useful.
• Where do your ideas come from? How do you generate new ideas?
  My compositional ideas come from all over – playing bass, fooling around on the piano or guitar, singing, playing with theoretical ideas. Often I'll steal ideas from music I'm studying or playing. There is usually some kind of theoretical idea that is tickling my cranium at any given moment, so often compositional ideas will come out of that. Sometimes ideas come from stories or pictures or events in my life. Often I structure my compositions in a programmatic/tone painting sort of way. Sometimes I have dreams where music and reality are fused, and that is sort of the world my compositions come from.
• What composer(s) do you most admire? Why?
  The first thing that comes to mind is David Binney. I guess right now I would really like to unlock the secret that makes his compositions so great to me. They seem mysterious to me right now. They are so simple, yet so interesting and compelling. They are interesting from the perspective of the performer and the music nerd, yet also they have a simple and direct emotional effect. I think a lot of it has to do with his band leading and the bands he puts together.
• What composition(s) do you admire? Why?
  The first thing that comes to mind is John Coltrane's Love Supreme suite. That suite made a huge impression on me. Coltrane had a powerful vision and a beautiful message which came through very strongly through that suite. The whole thing is one message that is direct and clear – that is elegance to me. The next thing I think of is Beethoven's 5^th Symphony. It also has a strong emotional effect. I like the way Beethoven plays with the themes – it is very easy to follow but still very interesting. After that I would say the Bach Cello Suites. They are so subtle and beautiful.
• Why compose? What is the reward of composition? Is it pleasurable? What is the most pleasurable part?
  The biggest motivation for me I think is curiosity – wanting to understand music better, wanting to find and explore new sounds. I guess I would also have to say that I have something I want to express which I don't see how to express by covering other artists. Composition is often a very uncomfortable process for me, but it is a great feeling when I write something and hear it and really feel like it sounds good – maybe even the band has taken it to new places and it sounds even better than it did in my head. That's a wonderful feeling.
• Can you recommend any books or videos which have been important to your development, or are important to your current compositional process?
  I would recommend The Gifts of Imperfection to anyone who is experiencing anxieties about their art. The Creative Habit is also worth a read to those who are interested in process.
• What composition are you most proud of and why?
  Well, Duke Ellington apparently always replied “The next one!” but I prefer Weird Al's standard reply: “The one that I am currently promoting!” I'm really excited about “The Little Prince Suite”, which I am just finishing, and everyone should come see at Walter Hall at U of T on April 16^th at 5:15pm.
• How would you like to develop as a composer in the future?
  I'd like to get better and better at connecting with audiences. I think the key is the overall form and balance of the thing. I'd also like to get over my fears and anxieties a bit and understand my process a bit better so that sitting down to compose becomes easier for me, and I get straight to generating lots of ideas on a regular basis, which I think is the key to finding good ones. I'd like to bring more discipline to my compositional process.

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Jazz Mind, Beginners Mind

(This is actually something I posted to my Facebook page a while ago, but I thought I'd re-post it here, since it seems relevant.)

Lately I was re-reading a chapter from one of my favorite books, "Zen Mind Beginner's Mind", by Shunryu Suzuki, and I was stuck by it in a new way - I saw how it relates to my music practise. When I first started learning the double bass, I felt I had virtually no skill and everything to learn. Although this was very stressful for me, I practised hard and eventually saw some dramatic improvements. I didn't become a virtuoso, but in a two or three years I went from having a poor sense of time and being virtually tone-deaf to having a reasonable concept on the instrument. Since then, however, I think I have seen a gradual reduction in my rate of improvement. I've been practising the same things for years now and not improving so dramatically. When I first started, everything seemed extremely hard to me. Now I tend to practice things that seem fairly easy to me, with the hope of perfecting them. However, if I was really aiming for perfection, then they I would still regard them as hard, because perfection is very hard to obtain! I think this subtle difference in attitude, together with simply less hours put into practicing due to a lessened sense of urgency (the threat of getting kicked out of Grant MacEwan College for failing my technical jury no longer looms over my head), may be responsible for the diminishing returns I've been experiencing. Basically what I am saying is I think every time I practise it should seem "hard" to me, whether that is because it is something new which I actually can not execute presentably, or because it is something I am aiming to master perfectly. I want to feel like a beginner every time I pick up the bass. But that's kind of a tricky thing, isn't it?

Here an excerpt from the original lecture, which was given after a meditation session. I see further implications for music, beyond just technique, into creativity as well. I would highly recommend buying the book, it contains many other fascinating insights into life and art. You have to excuse his broken english - it isn't his first language.

"We say, "Sho shin." "Sho shin" means "Beginner's mind." If we can keep beginner's mind always, that is the goal of our practice. We recited Prajna Paramita Sutra this morning only once. I think we recited very well, but what will happen to us if we recite twice, three times, four time, and more? Then we will easily lose our attitude in reciting -- original attitude in reciting -- the sutra. Same thing will happen to us. For awhile we will keep our beginner's mind in your Zen practice but if we continue to practice one year, two years, three years, or more, we will have some improvement, and we will lose the limitless meaning of the original mind. In beginner's mind we have many possibilities, but in expert mind there is not much possibility. So in our practice it is important to resume to our original mind, or inmost mind, which we, ourselves -- even we, ourselves do not know what it is. This is the most important thing for us. The founder of our school emphasized this point. We have to remain always beginner's mind. This is the secret of Zen, and secret of various practices -- practice of flower arrangement, practice of Japanese singing, and various art. If we keep our beginner's mind we keep our precepts. When we lose our beginner's mind we will lose all the precepts."

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Books About Creativity That I Love (or at least own)

In my quest to understand the creative process better, I've amassed a modest library on the subject.  I thought it might be helpful to post my thoughts on some of the books I own.  I feel somehow unqualified or disinclined to call these "book reviews", but I'll just say a bit about how each book effected me personally.  Here they are, in the order I was exposed to them:

It seemed everyone was reading this book when I was starting music school.  I hope young musicians are still reading this book, because I think it has an important message. It had a big effect on me at the time.  I started doing the "steps" and listening to the guided meditations during breaks in my practicing. I even attended a five-day workshop on this subject with Kenny at The Banff Centre in 2002.  (Actually, I just found YouTube videos of his wrap-up concert at the end of that week: part 1, part 2, and part 3.) Personally, I found the spirit and overall philosophy of this book to be very inspiring, but when I tried to use it as a specific path to achieving the kind of freedom it describes, it didn't really work for me.  I have a tremendous amount of respect for Mr. Werner and his vision.  For me this is a good book to flip through now and again, to sort of soak up its vibes.

I purchased this book because I was excited and interested in the idea of creativity being a skill you could learn by practice - just like, say, juggling or playing a major scale.  I wanted to learn and improve that skill.  What I was hoping for was an almost scientific analysis of creativity, what it is, where it comes from, and how it can be harnessed.  I found only a small portion of the book was about the details of how a formulated creative process would work. The rest seemed to me a sort of catalogue of tricks for stimulating your creativity.  (Which is also helpful in its own right!) Along the way we get a bit of a portrait of Twyla Tharp as an artist.  All in all, I think it was a helpful book to read, and each person will probably respond to it in a very personal way, depending on their own strengths and interests.  For example, Christine Bougie considers it her bible - check out her blog posts on it here, here, and here.

I definitely feel that there is something fundamentally sympathetic between Zen and creativity; Zen lore and culture is full of beautiful art in the form of poetry, paintings, rock gardens, etc. When Samu Sunim (head of The Toronto Zen Buddhist Temple) found out that I was a musician, he remarked that artists often like Zen, because "Emptiness - that is like a blank canvas."  ("Emptiness" is a central concept in Zen.) However, I didn't really feel a strong affinity for this book, and I never finished it. It didn't seem to be addressing the specific questions I have. I'm sure there are lots of great things to be discovered in it though. Maybe I would be better off considering some of the original writings of Dogen et. all.

The bulk of this book is made up of theoretically-based composition exercises, but I was interested in the last chapter, which is basically a collection of rants on the compositional process by the likes of Bill Evans, Carla Bley, George Russell, Horace Silver, Pat Metheny, Chick Corea, Lyle Mays, Anthony Davis, Herbie Hancock, Richie Beirach, and Ralph Towner.  While I didn't find anything specific to latch on to, I found it really interesting to read the essays.  Each artist has a totally different perspective and set of interests about composing. I eventually flipped through the first section of the book, and was surprised that I found the compositional exercises fun to think about as well.

I've blogged about this book before - actually, twice.  This book isn't actually specifically about creativity, but I found it helped my creative process more than any other book I've read in recent years.  I guess I'm just excited about Brene Brown's whole "thing".  Part of that might just be because I have an affinity for her outlook - we both like to take a "scientific" look at "messy" subjects, and try to invent systems to deal with them.  (I think part of this book is kind of about learning to be comfortable not doing that.)  Lately I've been noticing that someone can tell me something really wise, but if it isn't told to me by someone I'm prepared to hear it from, in the way that I want to hear it, I don't appreciate it. Which is my loss. (And the aggravation of my teachers and everyone close to me!) Anyway, this book is about letting go of anxieties about who you are. I may read it a second time.

I was pretty excited by this book because the title seemed to be getting right to the heart of my issue.  Unfortunately, when I actually started reading it, I found it kind of poorly written, and even sort of bizarre.  However, I did find a few bits I really like.  I haven't yet finished it, but to me the best of everything I have read thus far can be summed up in the following quote:



"The function of the overwhelming majority of your artwork is simply to teach you how to make the small fraction of your artwork that soars."



I think if someone were to take just that quote and what is implied by it to heart, amazing things could happen.

Maria Schneider is apparently a devotee of this book - she reportedly carried it with her everywhere she went during her visit to U of T a few years back, and she sometimes does clinics with the same title.  I've only just started it, but it seems to me like a sort of manifesto for the modern artist (Robert Henri lived from 1865-1929), and it seems to espouse some ideals that I can get on board with. For example, it opens with this quote from Mr. Henri:

"There are moments in our lives, there are moments in a day, when we seem to see beyond the usual. Such are the moments of our greatest happiness. Such are the moments of our greatest wisdom. If one could but recall his vision by some sort of sign. It was in this hope that the arts were invented. Sign-posts on the way to what may be. Sign-posts toward greater knowledge."

The book seems to be full of sort of fatherly advice that Robert Henri gave to his students.  So far it has been inspiring, and I'm looking forward to finishing it.



Have you read any of these books? What is your opinion of them? Do you have any other recommendations?

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