Album Notes

I never think about words when improvising. The titles come afterward, though some seem uncannily corresponding-- e.g., "The March of Joy and Sorrow," "Being in the Mountains," or "The Rhapsody of the Bells." Of course these are just my own associations. The following quote that I found turns out to be a precise description of how I approach this work:

“When I’m no longer trying to do something, I begin to feel I am led, as if my brush was just following a definite path. I am just following something which I merely initiated. At that point I am open to something which I was unable to express before, when I wanted to direct it. And strangely enough, the best moment, and the best result, is when I am here in front of the painting, and the hand is so to speak free. I am not imposing. At the same time it is me who paints. But it is as if I were following a kind of secret indication. I am no longer fighting. The struggle has taken place before this moment, when I was at the point of giving up. And at that point if I’m open enough, then something occurs, something completely new, something which seems to be true.” from "The Transmission of Content, An Interview with Paul Reynard," Parabola, Vol. 13.1.1998.

More compact adventures in melody—miniature stories or poems. Improvising is composing, only there’s no time to stop and polish. My aim has been to create music that has structure—at least a beginning (sometimes the searching part is left in), a middle, and a conclusion — and that can sometimes “pluck a deeper string.” Within this structure there may be many themes that play off one another and interweave. Most of these works come into being the way a plant grows, the full blossoming (which may be quiet) usually coming near the end.