As the year winds down, I would like to thank all of our subscribers for supporting us through a difficult period. Bruce is on the mend, playing his horn daily, and regaining strength. We are all very thankful for his ongoing recovery.
The article below, by Larry Ochs, was originally published for the initial volume of Arcana, produced in 2001 by John Zorn for Hips Road. Larry has made slight corrections, additions and rewrites for this Rova Scope reissue.
Devices and Strategies for Structured Improvisation
My first encounters with the music of Anthony Braxton and the Art Ensemble of Chicago in the late sixties/early seventies were as a listener, not a performer; I didn't yet know where I was going in life. But those close listenings and my love of genres involving improvised music, as well as subsequent encounters with "new music" composers like Cage, Xenakis, Feldman, Stockhausen, Scelsi, and others, all inspired me to imagine, once I began to imagine, that my own composed music might be concerned with the integration of composition and improvisation, using non-traditional forms and/or alternative structural devices, inventing or reframing structures and systems to combine intuitive processes with specific expectations (goals).
The music of the composer-performers I heard in concert and on record - more often than not referred to as jazz players - made it clear to me that it would be fun to work with fresh (if not entirely original) forms - or structural devices - within compositions that included improvisation. Steve Lacy's 1970s sensibilities and the structural devices we thought we heard in the music of Braxton, Leo Smith, Cecil Taylor, and Roscoe Mitchell (among others) pointed many of us in a certain direction. And their music suggested that one could create improvisations using the instrumental language developed throughout the history of jazz in combination with the instrumental language developed by composers of so-called "new music"; all to be used in hybrid musical forms.
The choice of a particular system or set of structures for a piece should be determined by three things: the goal of the composition, the musical interactions the composer is looking for in each part of the composition, and the contour(s) of the composition. Of course, modifications to any system would also depend on the makeup of the group for which one is composing.
I have been composing music for the Rova Saxophone Quartet since 1977. There are only so many ways to divide up a quartet; the most obvious example is to have one player solo over a repeated rhythmic or melodic line, usually called a "vamp". Although all the composer-performers in Rova have used this device at one time or another, we have chosen to develop ever-changing devices and strategies in order to challenge ourselves and stay engaged; and to push ourselves into new territory, even after 45 years of playing saxophone quartet music. By avoiding the obvious, we stimulate our creativity and challenge ourselves to go further. On the other hand, as you read on in this article about the devices I've used, it's important to remember that in all cases these formal devices/structures are used to "get at" the musical requirements of a given piece, not as a means of "looking hip" or being avant-garde. The primary goal of any piece is always to be musically coherent. The devices used in any piece are employed with the sole purpose of realizing the intentions of that composition. And the decision to use (structured) improvisation in the realization of those intentions is made to create the possibility of realizing more than the composer imagined possible when composing the piece (or section of the piece). Or, at the very least, to allow for the possibility of different - or fresh - realizations of that intention with each performance.
One particular device I have used in pieces for Rova (and other groups) is the "simultaneous solo", usually for a maximum of 3 players. The initial concept is simple: each player uses written material from the piece to start, and then expands on that material in soloistic fashion, finding ways to make his solo fit with the simultaneous solos of the other players. The best early example of this was the trio in Paint Another Take of the Shootpop (1981). In torque (1988) and other pieces composed after that, I added the following rule for each of the three players during these "triple solos": Start with an initial written motif, called idea A; improvise on idea A until it melds in some way with the other players' idea A. Then phase in an idea B, which can be any musical motif that fits the mood of the entire group section at the time. Fade out the original idea A. Play idea B alone, with variations, until it clearly melds with the other players' music. That is, play idea B until the relationship between your idea B and the group music can be heard by the other players (and the audience). Phase in idea C; phase out idea B ... and so on. The pace of the phasing is entirely up to the individual player, and virtually independent of the other two players involved. But the choice of new material must be influenced by what the player hears happening in the group music. The concept is simple, but only experienced improvisers are likely to succeed.
Another obvious division of a quartet is into 2 pairs. The “Double Duo” has been used in many different compositions of mine (and others) in Rova and elsewhere. Examples:
In New Sheets (1978), the written introduction sets up 2 duos: one of higher range saxophones and one of lower range saxophones. The lower duo (baritone + tenor saxophones) plays simpler, slower lines, initially with pauses between phrases. The upper duo (soprano, sopranino) is given a written line that is rhythmically insistent. They play on the phrase, alternating parts of the phrase and improvising around it, constantly building. The lower pair builds and releases tension throughout, acting like the lead singer of a ballad. Eventually, the two pairings join together for the final moments of the piece.
In a section of Escape from Zero Village (1980), an alto saxophone duo plays slurred lines in off-kilter tandem with the idea of slowly moving up the range of the instrument while creating serious tension by using glissando up and down in a small range of pitches that changes incrementally (climbing higher) over the total time of the section. Meanwhile, the tenor and soprano solo above, around, and below the alto duo. Both tenor and soprano use staccato, declarative lines, with the tenor playing as a sub-soloist to the soprano. This means that the tenor, while remaining independent of the soprano, pays a little more attention to the soprano's comments than if he were a co-soloist. Both tenor and soprano make declarative statements that punctuate the continuous push-pull of the alto duo.
In The Shopper (1986), the main improvisational section begins (after a first set of written heads containing 4 very short solos over vamp lines) with the soprano soloing over the trio's 4-bar vamp. After the baritone joins the soprano for simultaneous solos over 6 more bars of that vamp, the alto and tenor, who have been playing the vamp, drop the vamp and hit a brief sound event called a pivot cue. (The term "pivot cue" was introduced to me by John Zorn in his game pieces).
At the sound of each pivot cue, the baritone and soprano simultaneously change to a new, improvised pitch/sound pattern and make the new patterns work together. After 4 to 8 of these in rapid succession, the tenor - who signals all the pivot cues - starts a new (improvised) cue that is actually a repeated rhythmic pattern; the alto joins the riff, repeating it exactly in rhythm, but the pitch choice is open. This riff will sound very different from the composed Pivot Cues; this riff cues the baritone to join the soprano in whatever the soprano is doing; thus, the baritone and soprano also become a duo.
After the two duos are lined up against each other, any of the four players may, at any time: (1) visually signal the partner to interrupt the current repeating figure and then begin a new repeating figure for the partner to join. (Not every riff needs to be repeated with literal rhythmic accuracy by the cued partner. The player following the cuer's lead may choose to imitate the leader's repeating riff slightly irregularly or slightly out of time, but the relationship, once established, should be repeated for the duration of the pattern). (2) Cue one of the players in the other pair to join him as a new pair with a new riff. When this happens, the two players remaining in the original pairing can each continue to play existing riffs until one or the other of them cues the other to join him in a new repeating riff. At this point we have a double duo again, but now in new combinations. (3) Cue the other 3 players that he is going to take a solo over the existing repeating patterns. In this case, his partner must hold the current pattern until the soloist finishes the solo (and when the partner finishes the solo, he simultaneously cues in a new riff). The other pairing should - in most cases - also freeze on its existing riff/sounds until the solo is over, but this other pairing can change if it makes musical sense. However, this change is difficult to make and, in our experience, tends to undermine the solo in an uninteresting way. (Note: These solos are short.)
Not all repetitive riffs in The Shopper have to be about exact rhythm. Some will be blocks of sound and/or repeats of a certain duration with microtonal pitch changes; others could be intervallic statements. Anything is possible, as long as it is musically related to what the other pair was playing at the time of the change.
Both Planetary (1995) and torque (1988) contain introductory sections in which one duo plays a repeating vamp while the other duo plays a duet (initiated by written material) over ("louder than") the vamp line. At its most basic, this is a simple variation on the idea of solo-over-vamp mentioned earlier in this article. In torque, however, the duet consists of two simultaneous solos (a la Dixieland music). torque has the baritone and tenor repeat a "typical" bouncy, rhythmic unison line over which the simultaneous solos play in a traditional way. In Planetary, I twist this cliché a bit by having the tenor and a soprano play a dreamy high line in unison, while the duet pairing of baritone and alto briefly trade declarative riffs (think rap), then gradually begin to overlap and play simultaneously around, over, and under the vamp line.
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The first structured improvisation in When the Nation Was Sound (1993), a 25-minute piece with many sections and subsections, also uses a more traditional form. (At least, it can be considered traditional when compared to the European-based "new music" of the 20th century). After a short introductory theme, all 4 players improvise using only notated lines. Two duos - Duo 1: two altos; Duo 2: two tenors - are instructed to play these notated lines as written, but not necessarily in unison. (In fact, only the altos' first notated line is actually played in unison, and only briefly. However, many of the lines are played simultaneously by the pair, but out of phase.) Some of these 10 notated lines are in the parts of both duos. All but one of the lines are very energetic and played rubato, with feeling. There is a melancholy melodic motif that, at the time of the recording, was played only by the altos. The tenors have a rolling rhythmic figure to which they constantly refer as they move through the other lines at their own pace. Several of these lines reappear in variations throughout the piece.
The device of written lines - played when the musician chooses, but without the addition of freely chosen material - is perhaps the most common form of structured improvisation used by "contemporary classical" composers. It is also a potentially deadly boring device, because (1) musicians have a real problem making the material sound spontaneous, or (2) the lines themselves are the problem: overworked, too complicated, lacking feeling.
But the device works in When the Nation Was Sound because all the lines "relate to" or "fit over" the first lines given to each duo to begin the improvisation. Then, the free-jazz feel of the section allows the players the freedom to flow organically from line to line, and the overall flow of the group sound allows for sudden changes in material by any one player without disrupting the overall flow of the section. It's like well-kneaded bread: composed of independent materials, it all comes together into a coherent whole, while still allowing an unusual inclusion to "make sense" within the context of the whole.
When I wrote this essay in 2001, I attributed the success of bringing those composed lines "to life" to the Rova musicians' ability to excel as improvisers. I said, "They know how to breathe life into the lines and make them their own. And they understand what it means to hear the music of the other players and to blend their own contribution into that music. The orchestral sound is the ultimate goal.”
Although the art of the improviser was thought for decades to be a lesser discipline, that notion has been discredited in recent times, as more and more classically trained musicians have spent more and more time working with composers who are also great believers in the art of improvisation, if not excellent improvisers in their own right. There are now classical musicians all over the world doing free and structured improvisation with their own impressive voices.
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In Triceratops (1993), written for the saxophone octet Figure 8 (Rova plus Tim Berne, Glenn Spearman, Dave Barrett and Vinny Golia), I had 8 players to work with instead of the usual 4. The 8 saxophonists played in a semicircle, in a different order for each piece.
In a 5-to-8-minute section towards the end of the 25-minute piece, notated motifs set up a structured improvisation consisting of 3 simultaneous duos. The duos take place at positions 2, 5, and 8, with the three pairings being players 1-2, 4-5, and 7-8. In other words, player 1 moves to position 2, player 4 moves to position 5, and so on. The players in positions 2, 5 and 8 are the "leaders" of each duo. It is up to their respective partners to ensure that they play in a complementary and similar style to the leader. Each of the three pairings is given musical material that contrasts with that of the other pairings. Thus, at the beginning of this structured improvisation one hears a trio of duets.
Players 3 and 6 do not participate in the three duos. The other players work in duos with the given thematic material until player 3 or 6 moves to one of the three duet positions, signals one of the two members of the duo at that position to drop out, and then begins to play new (improvised) material. At this point, player number 3 or 6 would become the new leader of the duo, so it is up to the other player to mutate what he has been doing to work with the new leader's music. The new leader's task upon entry is to introduce improvised musical material that relates to the orchestral sound generated by the trio of duets at the time of his entry. He may choose from any of the five musical areas suggested by the composer, or he may choose something else that he hears as being appropriate to the existing triple-duo music.
From another perspective: while players 1-2, 4-5, and 7-8 have been involved in a triple duet, players 3 and 6 have been listening to the entire group music. If player 3 or 6 hears an interesting way to influence the existing group music, he selects one of the duos whose sound he wants to change, goes to that duo position, and inserts his new musical idea into the group music as described above.
The player he replaces then becomes one of the 2 listeners of the group music and continues as a listener until he is inspired to rejoin the group music with a new musical idea (the 2 listeners can also conduct in a limited way; for example, they can direct an existing duo to raise or lower its dynamic level).
In the recorded version, the thrust of this structured improvisation is generally dense, but in a live situation, any musical outcome is possible. And there is no requirement that all three duos always contrast to each other, as the section unfolds. It is possible, for example, for the group music to become progressively thinner and quieter. Duo leaders have the option of leading their duos into territory that complements or is similar to one of the other duos already in place.
In The Secret Magritte (1993), a piece written for an extended ensemble consisting of Rova plus 2 pianists, 2 bassists, and a percussionist, there is a kind of a double duo at the beginning of section 4. A drone (eventually elaborated) is maintained by the two pianists. Above (below and around) the drone, a bass-soprano pair and a bass-soprano pair alternate in telling a "wild story". The Secret Magritte is a 50-minute work that moves slowly through a landscape of changing terrain. In this duo, the only direction given to the duo is to invent a 'wild story' over the dynamically loud piano drone. The process for realizing this "story" is as follows: Duo 1 or 2 is always cued by the saxophonist in the pairing. When the saxophonist points to the bassist, the bassist knows that on the next cue from the saxophonist, the bassist will continue the story alone (solo). If the saxophonist points to himself, then the saxophonist will solo on the next cue. If the saxophonist does not point to himself before the cue (which is most often the case), then the members of the duo enter virtually simultaneously, with the saxophonist as the leader and the bassist as the accompanist. In a split second, the bassist must come up with music that continues the story and also works with what the saxophonist is introducing. (In reality, both players must adapt to each other's starting points.) One pair continues to play until the other pair cues in, at which point the first pair must stop immediately.
So: a continuous story - or series of statements - is made by the 2 pairs. With each pair-change, the forward motion of the music can be slowed or sped up, made more or less staccato or legato, loud or soft, spare or intense, etc. etc. But again (as with all these devices), the main concern is that the group-music happen. This is not about a competition between the two duos; this is about realizing a section of a composition using a method for that realization that optimizes the skills of the improvising artists and inspires them to play the music in ways not even imagined by the composer.
Comparing the last few sentences of the explanation for Triceratops with the last few sentences above leads to the last part of this article. All of the above discussion is about certain formal structures within which improvisation takes place. Like chord changes in traditional jazz, these formal structures can be used for any group and with any composition. Some adjustments will have to be made for the type of instruments used, and some changes in the rules may have to be made if (for example) (1) the number of players involved is different, or (2) certain players are not mobile because of the instrument they play. But aside from these formal issues, it's important to recognize that the musical or thematic material on which the structured improvisation is based is, in most cases, the key to how the group music will sound. In other words, what is given to any player as starting material, what is given to a player as finishing material, and the expressive limits placed on the improvisation by the composer: these three factors distinguish one piece from another, not the formal structure of the improvisation itself. Thus, structures, like chord changes in jazz and blues, modes and rhythms in Indian music, or sonata form in traditional European music, are neutral; they do not themselves dictate the musical outcome of a given composition.
For example, the double duo established in The Shopper is a derivative of a double duo form created by Jon Raskin for his piece The Pond, composed a year earlier. In The Pond, the individual player could choose pure tone or melody or rhythm or a combination of these and other musical parameters when initiating an event. In The Shopper, the written material prior to the improvisational section sets up an aggressive, forward-moving improvisation, and my verbal instructions limit the variables from which each player can choose to create repeated riffs; all limitations were made to maintain the mood of the piece.
torque and Planetary also show how compositional material affects an improvisation. I wrote Planetary in 1995 with the sole purpose of creating a new context for the structured improvisation originally created for torque. Rova enjoyed playing torque for many years because the structured improvisation that makes up most of the piece remained open to possibility. After a long while, however, we began to spin our wheels, repeating ourselves in the macro (group sound) if not necessarily in the micro (individual solo phasing process). It wasn't the structure of the improvisation that became stale, but rather the written music. So, in Planetary, the written music sets a different mood from which to improvise; slight changes to some of the rules of improvisation also freshen the process and inspire us to play in new areas.
Another example of how composer's intent rather than structure determines musical outcome: both my piece The Shopper and Steve Adams' The Farallons (1995) include a double-duo structured improvisation. But where the duos in The Shopper are aggressive, forward moving, and focused on rhythmic repetitive riffs, the double duos in The Farallons consist of held-pitches; 2-pitch chords set against each other, with the duos changing in any order at any time at the signal of either partner. As a result, The Farallons has a dreamy quality throughout; the solos over the held pitches are slow or plaintive - what the composer wants here - rather than the high-energy solos blasted out in The Shopper.
So, the composer who creates structured improvisations that are not formulaic must balance his desire for control with his desire to provide a vehicle for the players. If the closed system that is a composition is so loose that anything that happens is allowed, then you might as well throw out the writing and play freely. On the other hand, a piece can be judged successful by the degree to which the composition acts as a springboard for musical invention by the players, directing their energy and creativity toward realizing the composer's intent while still leaving room for the individual player to expand on the original concept and make a creative statement.
Discography of pieces cited in article:
Paint Another Take of the Shootpop (live in USSR 1983) on Saxophone Diplomacy CD (Hat Hut, 1992; LP 1984); originally on As Was (Metalanguage, 1981)
torque - on This Time We Are Both (New Albion, 1991) and on Long on Logic (Sound Aspects, 1990)
New Sheets on Cinema Rovaté (Metalanguage, 1978)
Escape from Zero Village on Saxophone Diplomacy (Hat Hut CD 1992; LP 1984)
The Shopper on The Aggregate (Sound Aspects, 1988) and Long on Logic (Sound Aspects, 1990 – only available digitally thru Rova Bandcamp page.)
When the Nation Was Sound on The Works, Vol. 1 (Black Saint, 1995)
Triceratops on Figure 8: Pipe Dreams (Black Saint, 1994)
The Secret Magritte (Black Saint, 1996)
The Farallons on Ptow!! (Victo, 1996)
Planetary (SoLyd, 2010 – available only at Rova Bandcamp page)
The Pond not documented as of this Rova Scope reissue.
(Arcana 1 is out of print. But later volumes of this series remain available.)
by Dean Westerfield at Angel City Jazz Festival 2022