Photo by Sharon Farmer, 2007

Sweet Honey in the Rock visited the Twin Cities this weekend. And, as those of us on the mailing list were lucky enough to learn, the group offered FREE workshops over the course of the weekend. I attended 2 of these events, one on Saturday March 8, hosted by Ysaye Barnwell and a second workshop on Sunday March 9, hosted by Aisha Kahlil.

And … I met them! Both! (They were kind and very generous with their selves and their time. They even let me snap a couple of photos. *smile*) But, enough of that, let me tell you about the workshops!

Dr. Barnwell and me

Building Community with Barnwell
Ysaye Barnwell is the deep-voiced contributor and a frequent songwriter for Sweet Honey in the Rock. (My own a cappella group sings a lot of her arrangements.) Her workshop focused on “Building a Vocal Community” (how apropos!). The group was fairly large for singing at 10:30 on a Saturday morning and I ran into lots of folks from my singer community … Barbara McAfee, Ann Kay and other singer friends.

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I admit to arriving a wee bit late (I hadn’t planned to attend the workshop since I’d be hosting Songtaneous in the afternoon). As I arrived, Barnwell was running the group through some scalar warm-ups; getting people loose and moving them into that wonderful head space community singing creates — the space that holds the qualities of being light-hearted and playful yet mindful and focused simultaneously.

From the warmup, Barnwell moved us to singing a chant from the Ituri Rainforest. In my opinion, it was worth going to the workshop just to hear what she had to say about this chant and it’s purpose. She put so simply and clearly things that have been percolating in my subconscious about communal singing.

[This chant is] Sung to pull all of the members of the community into the center of the community. It can be sung for hours and, some people say, even days. If that’s what it takes to pull everyone into a like-mindedness.

She went on to say …

On the face, it is very simple; in its thought process, it is more complex and more involved.

What you will experience is that when we do it properly and all the parts fit together correctly, new melodies will be created. They can only be created by how the parts come together.

This tells us is that this can’t be done by one’s self, it has to be done with others.

And speaking to the spiritual nature (if you’ll pardon the pun) of the chant …

“Nothing can happen until it’s right. And one of the reasons nothing can happen until it’s right is because the people believe that the Rainforest that they live in is God. And so until they’re right with God nothing else is going to start.

So it’s a really an important thing, an important way of simply sitting and being with each other and being with the environment … of trying to emulate the sounds in the environment, in order to emulate God.”

Like the woman said, simple yet complex.

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Barnwell then taught us a poly rhythmic African chant to which she added words and a “boys to men” chant (not it’s actual name *wink*) out of South Africa. She was patient and kind as we strove to adjust our Western mono rhythmic sensibilities to these new challenges.

She explained about the following about drummers (and other players) of poly rhythmic chants. She gave a great analogy about trying to find the image hidden in the paintings made up of all the dots. The individual rhythms are the dots, but the melody is the spaceship. She advised us to “listen for the spaceship.”

What they’re listening for is different from what they’re listening to. What they listen to, is their relationship to each of the other drums. What they’re listening for is the melody [like] we heard in the first [Rainforest] chant.

We finished the morning of singing with some African American spirituals. All in all, a good morning’s play.

Up Next: Improvising with Aisha Kahlil

This evening, I went to a concert of improvised instrumental music at a venue I’ve been trying to explore since October.

Homewood Studios hosts Improvised Music at its gallery the second Monday of every other month. (Those of you familiar with the ups and downs of my schedule know why it’s taken me 5 months to get to one of their events!)

As I arrived, gallery owner George Roberts greeted me with quiet excitement asking “Who do you know?” I fessed up to not knowing anyone and admitted that “I came for the improv.” Roberts couldn’t have been more pleased (or pleasant!). He introduced me to Milo Fine the improv coordinator (can there be such a thing?) and one of the performers for the evening.

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Fine kindly told me that they would start and play straight through, so I should feel free to get up, step outside (even visit the restroom if needed). In other words, this wasn’t one of those performer-audience type things. A few minutes later the quartet — consisting of drums, two synths, horns, saxophone (and some vocals!) — took flight and remained airborne for the next two hours.

A lot of energy, information and music was exchanged during that time and when it ended, I felt slightly shell-shocked, more than a little intoxicated and extremely glad to relinquish my seat on Homewood’s metal folding chair.

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Lessons and Ruminations

• Drummer Davu Seru’s mannerisms while playing are uncannily like my brother when he plays. (Seriously, I apologized to Seru for staring at him throughout the performance.)
• Horn player Scott Newell gets some of his inspirations for the improvised pieces from complex graphical scores he writes. He kindly walked me through a short tour of the scores that influenced this evening’s music.
• From Jason Shapiro, “I did some of my best non-playing tonight.” In other words, sometimes choosing not to play is just what the music needs. (Amen, Jason, amen! A tricky, yet invaluable lesson to learn.)
• Fine gave me two vocal recordings to look up – Patty Waters Sings and … um … (uh oh, something about a singer who worked with Herbie Mann?)
• George Roberts has created an improvisational writing process around the improv nights. Throughout the performance, he notes the time and free writes. Lucky for us, he posts these writings online.
• There’s a reason I’m a vocalist. I found myself unable to imagine having to express my improvisational impulses through any other instrument. For me, a translation process would be necessary (first, have idea; next, play instrument) and something would be lost. That didn’t seem true for any of these gentlemen. Watching each of them interact with his instrument(s) was as gratifying as listening.

It was an evening of complex, moving and innovative music with a little less melodic content than my singing self is used to. At times, listening was hard work. (I can only imagine how hard the musicians were working!) But when Fine and I started talking about how observation and participants (and the weather!) affect and change improvised music. (i.e. how my absence would have made what they played different) — I knew I was in the right place.

Like I said, I came for the improv.

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I know some of you are waiting for my post about the workshops I attended this weekend with Sweet Honey in the Rock’s Ysaye Barnwell and Aisha Kalil. Don’t worry, I’ll post on the concert and the workshops later this week.

Imagine trying to plan an improvisational event. It’s kind of like trying to study for a class for which you haven’t registered yet.

The recurring problem I have in trying to live an improvisational life is my need to make plans. Deep in my heart of hearts, I’m a planner; organizing things calms me. I like schedules and lists; I like to know what’s coming. And when it will get here. And if I have to sign for it.

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Honestly, I was a bit apprehensive about coordinating A’s birthday session. I mean it had seemed like a good idea at the time, but what should I plan? How would I plan? I liked the idea of creating spontaneous music to celebrate A and her landmark birthday, but what exactly should I prepare?

I resolved to trust my intuition and improvisational skills and show up – mentally and spiritually, as well as physically (c;.

I made a list of singing activities I thought I could guide. I reviewed the list a couple of times and discussed it with some friends and listened for the “click.” (More on the “click” later.) I knew my audience would be playful and willing to participate. I had more ideas than I could possibly present, so I could feel out the group for what would fit best. Most important, I had my love of spontaneous singing to guide me.

The event was a success. I had a great time and we created a special and unique celebration for the birthday girl. I learned (once again) that some things can’t be planned or scheduled; they can only be given a space and time in which to grow and become.

Remember. Life is an improvisational event. Sure, we make plans and set goals, but we don’t control everything. In order to be successful and happy in our lives, we have to develop our improv skills and learn to trust our intuition – to listen for the “click” of things falling into place.

Gloria Steinem said, “Without leaps of imagination, or dreaming, we lose the excitement of possibilities. Dreaming, after all, is a form of planning.”

Ah, how that comforts me.