Each time I go to teach improvisation (like at my workshop last month), I am struck by the challenge of explaining how to improvise.

I mean … What does it mean for an improv to be “good” or to be “good” at improvising?

How do you get good at something where the goal is invention, newness and spontaneity?

And, who decides if it’s good? The audience? The artist? (Me?)

And (again), since each of us has our own brain, preferences and collection of musical and life experiences, how do any of us even recognize “good” in the first place?

Furthermore, part of what makes improvisation “good” is its changeability and instant invention. So how do we examine something that has never existed before and (unless documented) will never exist again and decide whether or not it’s good?

In short, how do we know when we’ve “got it?”

(At this point, I usually consider cancelling my workshop and taking everyone out for pizza. *smile*)

…

How do we know?

The same way we know a painting is beautiful or a poem is good. (Or a blog post is finished. *grin*)

We know.

For me, there’s a click. The sensation of things falling into place.

With exposure and/or practice, we come to recognize “good” more easily. We learn to hear the click.

(It happens all of the time with these blog posts. I shuffle words, ideas and paragraphs around until … click.)

The click is something about ease and connection. And recognition. It’s about getting out of our own heads (or is that way? *smile*) and outside of our selves.

It’s also about letting go of what we planned to have happen so we can see and appreciate what’s actually happening. In other words, seeing — and telling — a truth.

…

Vibes player Gary Burton says:

There’s a grammar to music, a vocabulary and a grammar and it’s all stored in the brain. And that language ability functions for us as improvisers as well. Our melodic phrases are like sentences, they form in the unconscious, get put in the right order – the right notes to fit the chords and everything and, as they come into our conscious mind, we play them on our instrument. [O]ur goal as improvisers is to become fluent at this process.

I felt a click when I heard the quote above.

Of course, improvising is about communicating fluently! Click.

Yes, yes, there’s a musical grammar that we know and notice (regardless of our musical training!). Clickety-click.

The idea that improvising and communicating are alike makes a wonderful and logical sense to me.

…

The more I study, perform and teach, the more I am learning that, for me, singing and improvising are about communicating. An important part of singing, perhaps the most important part for me, is the telling of stories — in direct and indirect ways.

For me, singing is, has been and will always be about sharing. About having someone who is listening see what I see or feel what I feel in that moment of inventing, whether it’s an image, an emotion or a story.

It’s about singing — and sharing — the click.