A recent article in The Washington Postposed the following question:
"How does a freestyle rapper rhyme without rehearsal? How does a jazz improviser shape an instant solo? How do improv comedians wing it under pressure?"
The answer: we don't really know.
Creativity is among the least understood parts of the cognition process. We don't know how it works, but we do know that it's innate and resides within every brain.
The authors studied a rapper, a jazz pianist, and a comedic improv duo to learn more about improvisation and how it worked in the brains. What they discovered was fascinating.
Despite their different idioms (music/acting/rapping), it turns out that riffing, rapping, and role-playing all involve the same core functions: responding to unknown elements in a pre-determined script in real-time.
To learn more about the science of extemporization, Charles Limb of the University of California at San Francisco studied their brains while performing.
The brain scans showed a functional change in neural networks during improvisational activities. Limb noticed that improving bypassed the conscious-control portions of the brain, which regulate behavior. In other words, it removed judgment about the improv.
When I taught, I had a pretty good jazz band. Why good and not GREAT? Because I didn't know how to teach improv. Yes, I had some kids that were good at it, but it had nothing to do with me.
Why?
I understand the concepts.
I have musical training.
I understand style.
I have experience.
I just felt silly, self-conscious, and dumb.
It turns out that's where my problem lies.
The article states, "[It] springs from a stream of consciousness, unleashed by a state of mental looseness. Distractions fall away; doubts disappear. Time seems to vanish. It's about opening up, loosening mental controls and saying "yes" instead of "no" to create something meaningful." More than anything, it's about bravely putting yourself out there and being unafraid to make a mistake. As comedian Steven Colbert learned from his Second City director: "Learn to love the bomb." Failure will happen, so embrace it, then dive in again.
Learn from the fail. Love the fail. And then dive in again.
As music teachers, we want to fix every problem and right every wrong. We want every note right and played at the right time. We have high expectations and want nothing short of perfection. In short, we don't love failure; we try and eliminate it.
I want my ensembles to sound good. I want my students to benefit from high-quality instruction. I want them to grow and stretch themselves. I want them to benefit from my knowledge and experience success. That's how I taught.
They will remember your humanity. Your willingness to be vulnerable and open. To share not just what you know, but how you feel. They will remember that you created a safe space, and a caring community, who will love and care about them, even if they fail. that's not what my students remember, and neither will yours.
Remind your students that you might not love the fail, but you will always love the one who fails.
Have a great week!
Scott
p.s. I didn't know where this newsletter would go when I started it. I wrote and cut more paragraphs than I actually published. In the end - it turned out okay. Maybe I can improv after all.