Stalactites and Stalagmites (7/19/07 #4)
The scaffolding from where treasures are stored and later forgotten.
Piano Musings
Every so often, I sit down at the piano, press record, and try to make up a piece on the spot, entirely improvised. I do this to keep myself from getting too structured and to keep my creativity going.
The first episode of this podcast series is actually my first ever attempt at improvising a piece from start to finish. To keep myself freaked out, honest, and accountable, I turned it into a public podcast and kept going.
The pieces are raw and with bobbles, but the point is to use them to explore the creative process, and get some interesting ideas out. It's like an ongoing conversation with the piano. Sometimes it doesn't work out so well, but there are also some real gems.
One of the things I love about having a public podcast is that you come across people who respond to the music in creative ways. You'll find that some of these episodes have artwork attached. I'm always open for more submissions. If you feel so moved, feel free to get in touch.
Her Worry Dolls (7/19/07 #3)
She got them in Guatemala, and kept them next to her matryoshka dolls. At night, the worry dolls would dance and try to offer comfort to their counterparts.
Swamp and Sand (7/19/07 #2)
Think of the opposite of erosion. Sand and swamp, to soil, rock, and clay, and finally vegetation and peaceful structure.
Empty Sanctuary (7/19/07 #1)
That church is always humming to itself a bit. It comes from deep inside the walls. But you can only really hear it after the congregants all leave.
Last Message (5/26/07 #2)
It was a young planet, taken too quickly.
Ignorant Meadow (5/26/07 #1)
Something horrible happened the night before. Can the meadow not acknowledge that? Sometimes when morning breaks, there is a rudeness to the peace.
After The Rain (4/12/07 #2)
The rush of the storm has passed. The only things that got washed away were those things you can do without.
Tie Down For The Storm (4/12/07 #1)
Some kind of storm is coming. You have to tie down everything that is loose. Because you don't know what will happen. Something. Might as well tie yourself down, too. Then just wait.
Unbond (3/22/07 #2)
Sometimes we get pulled apart slowly. We might not notice it at first.
Kingdom (3/22/07 #1)
The kingdom was mighty. Great gates, wide courtyards, and deadly intrigue... but falling into disrepair.
Junkyard Robot (3/17/07 #2)
Rusted metal and twisted gears, but still kinda cheery - he limps around the junkyard helping other contraptions to better themselves.
Broken Frost (3/17/07 #1)
A dark bird is flying, testing the cold air just before spring. Some life might emerge from the still-frozen ground, but it might be too early to survive.
Glass and Steel (3/7/07)
There is a stillness after destruction that is peaceful and stunning.
Metal Knotted (2/28/07)
Start with a loose tangle. Find two ends, and start pulling them in opposite directions. Make them want different things. Force through the tangle, fight against it. Turn it into a knot, make it harder, as hard as metal. Then remember, how could metal ever become a knot? To untangle, remember where it started. With softness.
Dancing About Architecture (2/8/07)
It's a strange structure, new. She moves around it tentatively, slowly assembling the pieces in her understanding and movements. It's a careful embrace, but ultimately whole and secure.
Baby Naiad (1/5/07 #4)
She's there to protect the spring and the lake. She moves smoothly, gracefully, arranges the moss and lilypads just so, makes sure the moonlight glints at the right angle, keeps the water clear. The problem is, she got knocked up. And her daughter, who just hit the terrible twos, is running around trying to "help".
Matchbox Traffic (1/5/07 #3)
I'm trying to drive this car, but it doesn't steer, it has no brakes, and the doors don't even open. There are wrecks all around me, cars and trucks turned upside-down, but none of them appear damaged. The traffic rules don't make any sense. And just when I think I'm getting somewhere, this giant toddler reaches down and grabs me.
Old Meadow (1/5/07 #2)
It had a good run, but it'll probably turn into a swamp soon.
Choir Rehearsal (1/5/07 #1)
It's Monday night. Sunday's service went well. But it's halfway through rehearsal, the break was too short, shoulders are slumped, people are leaning back in their chairs. The sopranos are giggling about something unholy. Time to focus for one more runthrough.
Lost Village (12/7/06)
We had to hack through the brush to get there. It wasn't mist that hid it, just miles of desolation and occasional thickets.
Homeless Ghost (12/6/06 #1)
He needs no food and is not rooted to a spot. But he also has no place to go, and cannot enjoy the warmth of the sun or the touch of a stranger. The world's beauty is only an apparition to him.
Tinkerbell's Little Brother (10/31/06 #3)
He's clumsy - graceless with his flying, always spilling things. Takes some wrong turns. Sometimes he just makes a real mess of things. It probably frustrates him that he'll never live up to his sister.
A Merry-Go-Round In Rain (10/31/06 #2)
The kids are stuck inside, waiting out the rain. But the merry-go-round slowly moves as the puddles grow.
Eidolon (10/31/06 #1)
You've forgotten something. It's important. It's about yourself. It's buried in yourself, and you've forgotten. But you'll be reminded. You'll hear hints of it from time to time. You'll hear more when you're ready. You'll remember when you're ready.
The Interrupting Sister (8/28/06)
Tommy and I keep trying to sneak up on the swamp monsters. We have to be really careful because they're sleeping. We have to be quiet. But Chrissy keeps asking us questions! We didn't want to bring her along, she keeps ruining everything!
A New Steeple (8/26/06 #2)
It was over two tons. The pastor worried it was too big. It moved slowly through the air, helped by cables and the crane. It was impossible. But then it fit.
She Owns A Boat (8/26/06)
She owns it herself. Sometimes she feels a little out of her element, but it's still hers. It rocks her gently. And sometimes it's a little intense. But it's hers.
Driving Away (7/20/06)
It is night. It had rained. You're leaving, and it doesn't matter what comes next.
Phoenix Grace (7/17/06)
The second chance, bestowed to those that don't expect it and don't realize they deserve it.
A Young Church (7/5/06 #2)
It starts with a gathering. Healthy ideals. A gentle church is formed, and it grows - hopefully not too quickly.
Ice Cream Bully (7/5/06 #1)
He's seven, and tough. He might take your ice cream. Or maybe he'll make you swallow your bubble gum.
Small Town Sunday (7/4/06 #2)
It's Sunday afternoon. That period of time between chapel and dinner, that mental space between doing chores and doing nothing. A town's memories are created.
An Elusive Sweetness (7/4/06 #1)
It's the slightly sweeter life - the poetry of stillness and destination from the slightly different path.
Rundown Playground (7/2/06 #4)
It used to be a nice playground. But the teeter totter's rusty. The swings have broken chains. There's probably broken glass somewhere.
Camel Boogie (7/2/06 #3)
Despite popular belief, camels have been known to shimmy. It is a rare occurrence because camels are apt to conserve their energy. But with enough of a water source, they'll shimmy, stoop, and strut. They're better than you might think, although not by a lot.
The Forbidden Belfry (7/2/06 #2)
A bunch of kids got into that belfry tower by that abandoned church over by the cemetery yard. They don't know what they're getting into.
Before A Kiss (7/2/06 #1)
You consider, removed from the moment, and then time stops as the breeze still blows.
Abandoned Mansion (6/3/06 #8)
How would the mansion feel if it were alone, forgotten, and hungry? A mixture of creaking, dignity, and paralysis.
Insects Crossing Ice (6/3/06 #7)
Small creepy creatures trying desperately to cross something slick. They flail about, but eventually succeed with pride.
Emotional Giant (6/3/06 #6)
Giants get emotional too. They stomp around and kick at trees and punch clouds and wipe their noses on handfuls of shrubbery... but they eventually feel better.
Secret Treehouse Gang (6/3/06 #5)
The meetings are planned by writing messages inside of paper throwing stars. No girls allowed.
Creating Lilypads (6/3/06 #4)
You're a God. You wake up one morning and discover that you can create lilypads. You endeavor to scatter them out to every body of water on the planet.
Weightless Temple (6/3/06 #3) (6/3/06 #3)
Cathedrals are peaceful, but imposing. What if you could find one that rose from the water or floated in the air?
Dirty Water (6/3/06 #2)
It's creepy and there are things in it that might grab you, or at least stick to you in an unpleasant way.
Planning Shenanigans (6/3/06 #1)
When one takes oneself too seriously, it's up to the subversive creatures to restore balance.
Possessed Saloon (5/29/06 #7)
Listening to this one, I just couldn't help but think of it as a saloon piano that might have been trying to play itself. Saloon pianos are kind of oddball.
Empty Circus Fields (5/29/06 #6)
Small town circuses set up in big fields... when they leave, they take everything with them, but the fields remain.
Glass Moth (5/29/06 #5)
This one didn't really solidify into a concept until about 90 seconds in, but it made me think of something that fluidly flies around but is also kind of brittle.
Slacker Fairies (5/29/06 #4)
You'd think that fairies are all about flying around in the forest carrying around tree sap and dewdrops and repairing lily pads and throwing surprise parties for baby animals. But really, some of them just want to sit around and smoke bark.
Stalking Toddler (5/29/06 #3)
You ever notice how toddlers are really bad at hide and seek? And chase? They think they're being all sneaky and scary, and they're just not. They're really bad at it.
Rude Phrygian (5/29/06 #2)
Well, I learned about Phrygian chords recently, and they often sound pretty cool in jazz. So I tried throwing one in the middle of this more new-agey improv, and wow, was it awful. So, what if a Phrygian was actually a guy from some strange culture that walked in the room and offended everyone? Well, maybe this is what it would sound like.
Busted Lemonade Stand (5/29/06 #1)
Lemonade stands always sound like such a good idea. Although sometimes there's splinters in the plywood, or the ice melts too fast, or you realize you don't have enough dixie cups, so you start reusing them. And the day stretches on.
Slow Rain (5/23/06 #2)
It's gentler than a drizzle, but more than a mist... is it rain if the droplets feel like they are floating?
March Of The Caterpillars (5/23/06 #1)
It actually seems a tad Latin, but just a tad. So, maybe they're caterpillars in Ernesto Lecuona's garden. Either way, these caterpillars are a bit full of themselves. This is take #8.
Drunk On A Porch Swing (5/16/06 #4)
Sitting on a porch swing, swinging back and forth, looking at a sun-drenched field with dandelions and breezes, except your lemonade is spiked and you're completely soused.
Stubbing Toes (5/16/06 #3)
I almost didn't include this one because it's weird and because I completely gave up in the middle. But then I listened to it and it made me crack up. So, "Stubbing Toes" it is.
Strumming Lost Threads (5/16/06 #2)
That occasional state of mind of when you're trying to remember an old memory but don't really mind when you can't. Maybe because you're drunk on a porch swing.
Old Toy Soldier (5/16/06 #1)
Listening to this made me think of an old toy soldier marching around, long since forgotten by his owner.
Calliope Raglet (5/15/06)
A weird little rag-ish thing in C minor. Well, it's sort of C major, too. Mostly improvised, but I cheated a bit on this one, too - the first two bars have been playing in my head for a while now.
Dusty Mirrors (5/9/06)
This improvisation was done on a Tuesday, a day spent recharging after a difficult three-day stretch. My thoughts about life while playing: back to the drawing board. It takes a few seconds for the music to start.
Forgotten Alley (4/29/06)
Originally titled "Improvisation in X minor"... I suppose it could be in F... this improv isn't too good, so you're allowed to laugh at me. But it's still a good reflection of how that day felt to me - one of those days where it just seemed like nothing was working quite right. Like the day, this one just doesn't hold together very well, but other than that, it's kind of weird and eerie.
Comet Jam (5/6/06)
I kind of cheated on this one, in that it isn't a true improvisation. Rather, I improvised some of the material and then realized it was way too hard to be able to play without stuttering all over the place. So I actually practiced the material for about a half hour to get a better feel for the material and the form. This is the end result - still a couple of bobbles, but much better than it would have been otherwise.
First Night (4/28/06)
After getting home from some low-key social plans with a friend of mine - lots of talking about relationships and attitudes with which to approach life - I improvised this into my microtrack.