note: I’m plugging the performance here because Franziska’s appearance at the Lab in November ’08, and Bruce’s in December ’08 and in May ’09 rode on the back of this project.

According to the director of the gallery, Fiona Kearney:

As a result of the unprecedented flooding in Cork city on Thursday evening, 19 November 2009, the Lewis Glucksman Gallery has suffered extensive flood damage to its basement. The flooding poses a severe problem for the gallery, as the basement area housed the art stores, a major plant area and the kitchens….

The Glucksman Gallery is grateful for all the support it has received to date which has allowed the gallery to respond to this unprecedented situation with maximum effect. The gallery now faces a major financial challenge to reinstate the award-winning building for public use, and to restore damaged works in the collection.

[Read the rest…]

See also the Glucksman’s facebook page.

In addition, The Real-Time Company (for the Ad-Hoc Association) of… guitarists Han-earl Park and Kevin Terry will open the event.

It’ll be an exciting evening of real-time mutations and hybrids. Stet Lab would like to thank all who participated (performers, audience and behind-the-scenes helpers) over the last two years. Hope to see you over the next coming months!

about Stet Lab Year Three

Stet Lab (Cork’s monthly improvised music event) enters its third year (details below)!

To be informed of future events, please join Stet Lab – announce, or subscribe to the web feed (news only or all blog posts). [More info…]

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Upstairs @ The Roundy, Castle Street, Cork, Ireland
9:00 pm (doors: 8:45 pm)
Admission: €10/5.

Stet Lab’s third birthday! Featuring Filario Farinoppo: Dario Fariello (saxophones, viola, electronics and little instruments), Filippo Giuffrè (guitar and electronics) and Antonio D’Intino (bass, electronics and little instruments), plus The Real-Time Company (for the Ad-Hoc Association) of… Han-earl Park and Kevin Terry (guitars).

Monday, December 7, 2009

Upstairs @ The Roundy
9:00 pm (doors: 8:45 pm)
Admission: €10/5.

Me, Bailey; You, Parker: Justin Yang (saxophones) with Han-earl Park (guitar), plus The Real-Time Company (for the Ad-Hoc Association) of… Susan Geaney (flute), Marian Murray (violin) and Veronica Tadman (voice).

Monday, January 11, 2010

Upstairs @ The Roundy (TBC)
9:00 pm

Featuring Korhan Erel (electronics). Details to follow….

Monday, February 8, 2010

Upstairs @ The Roundy (TBC)
9:00 pm

Featuring Evan Dorrian (drums). Details to follow….

Monday, March 8, 2010

Upstairs @ The Roundy (TBC)
9:00 pm

Featuring Paul Stapleton (new musical instruments / sound sculptures). Details to follow….

about Stet Lab

Since November 2007, Stet Lab has successfully brought together improvising musicians with varied experiences and from far afield. Cork, Ireland’s monthly improvised music event, Stet Lab is a space in which improvisers (novice, veteran; student, teacher; part- or full-time; amateur, professional; local or visitor) can meet, play and learn from one another.

about Stet Lab: Year Two

Looking back at the 2008/9 season, Stet Lab founder and curator, Han-earl Park says, “Stet Lab’s second year has been a triumph. We’ve been privileged to have hosted such a variety of improvising musicians: veteran of the international improvisation scene, Paul Dunmall, heavy-hitters such as Mark Sanders, the extraordinary Franziska Schroeder, the dramatic Katie O’Looney, the virtuoso Jamie Smith, and the… indescribable Jonny Marks. It’s also been a time to renew musical relationships with the mutant fiddle-playing of Murray Campbell, and the Cornelius-Cardew-meets-Joe-Harriott sound world of Bruce Coates.

“And we’ve witnessed the real burgeoning of young, local improvisers. The year has been a success beyond what we could have hoped for when we entered year two back in November [2008], and I look forward to musical interactions above-and-beyond.”

what to expect: Stet Lab Year Three

The 2009/2010 season promises to expand and diversify the improvisative geo-politics of Stet Lab. November will see the Lab welcome Filario Farinoppo—a trio of improvisers from Bologna, Italy—and the December event features the Californian composer-performer Justin Yang. Through 2010, the Lab will host visits by improvisers including Paul Stapleton (N. Ireland), Alexander Hawkins (England), Korhan Erel (Turkey) and Evan Dorrian (Australia).

I don’t subscribe to a silly ideology of some impossibly impartial, neutral, transcendental performance, free of tradition, history, identity. I’m not necessarily saying any one performance is going to be better than another (although I won’t strongly dispute such a claim), but some are, for me, more (for lack of better word) worthwhile than others; they were worth doing, and worth participating in, for reasons of demonstrating promising avenues of future research, or for putting into motion the results of such research. And I hope that the worthwhile performances / tactics / relationships / modes-of-interaction outweigh the others, or that the others lead, eventually, to worthwhile performances / tactics / relationships / modes-of-interaction.

I don’t want to confuse this sense of lack-of-‘worth’ with misfires that nonetheless do point to avenues of future research. Sometimes the less than satisfactory improvisations bring into relief approaches or contexts that you are not able (yet) to deal with (e.g. my playing with Franziska Schroeder at November ’08 Lab [read my report…]), or a performer highlights your relative lack of inventiveness or skill (e.g. Paul Dunmall blowing just about all of us off stage in February [read my report…]). Even if these are musically less than successful (whatever that means), all these are valuable and are worth participating in as a performer and as a listener. (An example of a performance that I wouldn’t have been entirely happy with as a listener would perhaps be the the duet with Bruce Coates in November ’07.)

Does that make any sense?

Okay, what does this have to do with the June Lab? As much as audience feedback was to the contrary, from my POV at least, my playing at that Lab felt like a retread. As much as the Stet Lab audience, prior to June, may not have heard Han-earl Park, the modal player, Han-earl Park, the practitioner of prepared guitar, or Han-earl Park, the deployer of imitative tactics, these all had a sense of, for me, been-there-done-that.

Also it didn’t offer (again, for me) enough in terms of complex relationships. As I wrote in regards to the previous month’s Lab:

I want the listening experience to be rich and interesting. If you’re sharp, you’d have caught it, made connections, and patted yourself on the back for being a clever listener; if not, well, no biggie, hopefully there’s enough complexity to provide ear-candy and (unintended) connections.

verbatim imitation

One thing I did during the June Lab that I haven’t been doing in a long time was (more or less) verbatim imitation.

I did have fun, but I think I also realized (remembered?) why I’d been avoiding this particular mode of interaction. It’s too easy; the choices are the most obvious. It’s like movies that, uncertain of the intelligence of their audience, get loaded with too much exposition. Hey, didn’tcha catch that? No problem, pal, I’ll tell ya again….

And again, as much as the post-performance feedback was positive, I would have liked the performance (the world onstage) to ask more of the audience. I would prefer to have the audience work to make connections and construct, I don’t care what you call it, ‘significance’ / ‘meaning’ / (projected) ‘intent.’ If I were a member of the audience, I’d want the connections to be more… oblique.

the prepared guitar

Yeah, yeah, yeah, the guitarist / banjo player sticks a couple of chop-sticks into the strings, woo-hoo. Yeah? boring. What’s the point?

I’m not dissing Frith or Rowe, but, seriously, who do I think I am. Am I able to get anything interesting out of this (beyond simple-minded novelty)? Who am I kidding?

And isn’t appealing to “simple-minded novelty” again like that movie that pitches at a less-than-intelligent audience?

audience participation

This was something that I’d wanted to see more of. I’d attempted to stage audience participation at the Lab with mixed results in the past, but it was great to have Juniper Hill’s more direct approach.

…but perhaps the chamber music vibe of the evening (established by Piaras Hoban, Veronica Tadman, et al.) conspired against a riotous on/off-stage engagement from really taking off.

…and I can’t play the banjo

Now that may have been the single most striking impulse to deploying a single tactic. Not having much of a repertoire on the banjo meant that, well, I had a pretty narrow line to walk. Do this, then that, uh, what do I have left, okay, that, that, and, finally, this. Not sure there’s much milage available for Han-earl Park, the banjo player, and necessity ain’t always the mother of invention, but that was, in terms of my playing, the most interesting tactic for the evening.

Stet Lab’s final event of the 2008/9 season

Monday, June 8th 2009

9:00 pm (doors: 8:45 pm)

Upstairs @ The Roundy [map…]
Castle Street
Cork, Ireland

€10 (€5)

Stet Lab’s final event of the 2008/9 season takes place on the 8th June 2009 at 9:00 pm, upstairs at The Roundy, Castle Street, Cork. Stet Lab again welcomes both regular and newcomers to the stage, bringing the familiar and unfamiliar together in a special season finale.

Curator and founder of Stet Lab, Han-earl Park (guitar) will perform with the exciting navigator of multiple improvisative traditions, Juniper Hill (voice and small instruments). Park has been described by the Computer Music Journal as “innovative” and by BBC – Collective as an “electro weirdo”, and has performed in Denmark, England, Ireland, The Netherlands, Scotland and the USA. Juniper Hill is a vocalist and multi-instrumentalist from Los Angeles and currently based in Cork. An ethnomusicologist who studies contemporary folk music, and the creativity and pedagogy of improvisation, Hill has been involved in free jazz and experimental music for many years and is especially interested in the use of voice in these mediums.

Newcomer to the Lab, Síofra Fitzgerald (flute) and Stet Lab regular, Kevin Terry (guitar) make up the other duo of the evening. With pre-composed parts written by Terry (with nods to sources as diverse as Anthony Braxton and Takemitsu Tōru), the performance will entail a clash of musical approaches—that of the classical-interpreter and that of the improviser—which does not resolve to a single whole but further shatters, fragments and divides.

Veronica Tadman (voice), another vocalist based in Cork, has been privileged to have performed alongside artists such as Paul Dunmall and Don Malone. She has guest curated Stet Lab, and this has given her the opportunity to perform with innovative new talent from Cork. This month, Veronica is collaborating with composer and member of the R.E.A.L. Ensemble, Piaras Hoban (laptop) who recently premiered his piece for soprano and electronics at the Sonic Arts Research Centre in Belfast. Hoban and Tadman will be joined by composer and the R.E.A.L. Ensemble founder, Francis Heery (electronics), and performer-theorist Áine Mangaoang (violin).

The event will begin at 9:00 pm (doors open at 8:45 pm) and entry is €10 (€5).

Stet Lab will return in October for more real-time, musical mutations and hybrids.

Looking back at the 2008/9 season…

…Stet Lab founder and curator, Han-earl Park says, “Stet Lab’s second year has been a triumph. We’ve been privileged to have hosted such a variety of improvising musicians: veteran of the international improvisation scene, Paul Dunmall, heavy-hitters such as Mark Sanders, the extraordinary Franziska Schroeder, the dramatic Katie O’Looney, the virtuoso Jamie Smith, and the… indescribable Jonny Marks. It’s also been a time to renew musical relationships with the mutant fiddle-playing of Murray Campbell, and the Cornelius-Cardew-meets-Joe-Harriott sound world of Bruce Coates.

“And we’ve witnessed the real burgeoning of young, local improvisers. The year has been a success beyond what we could have hoped for when we entered year two back in November, and I look forward to musical interactions above-and-beyond when we return in October.”

safety…

For me ‘oxleygrass (Marie’s phone)’ really doesn’t work as music. I think, at best, it’s a technical demonstration.

The ditty didn’t go anywhere: no changes (abrupt or otherwise) in dynamics, velocities, densities, complexities, (ir)regularities, etc. Pretty run-of-the-mill stuff. In that conversation with Melanie L Marshall, Paul Dunmall compared a successful improvisation to a string under tension: you want to increase the tension almost to breaking point without actually breaking it. In those terms, this ditty had no tension—no tug, no pull. Is that failure?

Does ‘choose your own adventure’ really work any better than ‘oxleygrass…’? Perhaps more successful (certainly more listenable) as music, but the results are a little too familiar from the performer’s point of view (that would be mine). No surprises, all hackneyed stuff.

So that raises an interesting question: not withstanding the desirability of both, is it better to fail as a piece of music, yet leap into the unknown, or is it better to craft a listenable piece of music, but remain in a safe space? [More discussion about safety and comfort…]

…nets

The lack of the volume pedal (a component of this cyborg guitarist that I’ve been questioning for some time) probably contributed to the nerves as (undesirable?) surprises awaited me as a result.

There’s a logic to the (controlled?) abandonment of safety nets. Their absence can reveal who you are (and might be) without those prothesis. In engineering terms, by removing a component, you can test out the behavior of the rest of the (cyborgian) system. (Franziska Schroeder recently introduced me to another derogatory term by Komposers for real-time interactive musicians—‘naked improvisers’. In that sense, does the lack of volume pedal makes me more naked?) What I discovered wasn’t exactly wonderful.

I’ve worried that my ‘phrases’ (defined rather broadly) tended to be uniform, and hypothesized that this was due to the minimum/maximum cycle of the leg-foot-pedal complex. What I discovered by taking the volume pedal out of the chain was that I hardly phrase at all without it, and, during those few moments when the gestures did delineate a phrase, its articulation was indistinct and had even less variation.

As I struggled with this, the tactician took a back seat, leaving larger term variation untouched. It’s only several minutes into the performance (at about the 4:50 mark) when I think to do something about it.

Where to go from here?

Melanie was surprised that I decided to abandon the volume pedal at the start of the gig (see ‘clichés: getting all the crap out of the way’ below). I agree that it was a risky strategy, and not very successful in this instance. I would, however, like to try such opening gambits again; they have the smell of potentially being dramatic for me (and perhaps for the audience).

negotiating risk

The duo with Ros Steer (‘it’s double bass night tonight at Stet Lab’) went better, even if (or because of) the logic of that improvisation was oblique. A disaster, perhaps, according to some formalist criteria, but that doesn’t bother me (I did, after all, give up being a Komposer a long time ago).

Even as I’m aware that she’s a newcomer to the Lab’s stage (and, I’m guessing, also a relative novice to this practice), I’m testing out the network: how does Ros deal with contrasting elements, with being left alone, with gestures that don’t (seemingly) relate to hers.

In contrast, during the closing quartet (‘siren’), the high-volume trio of Owen Sutton, Kevin Terry and myself threaten to overrun the quieter voice, Méadhbh Boyd. We give her space, but she doesn’t take it. The trio of familiar improvisers and a newcomer makes for a hazardous combination. Is that failure on the trio’s part?

clichés: getting all the crap out of the way

Han-earl Park: “I think I’ve run out of ideas.”
Veryan Weston: “That’s when the creative stuff happens.”

Recently, I’ve got into the habit (if that’s the word for it) of ‘getting all the crap out of the way’: starting the gig by throwing in (out) all my clichés, habits and standard tropes. I did that recently in a duo with Mark Sanders, and, to some degree, with Franziska this month. This requires you to trust yourself to still find stuff—that your creativity can still find expression—beyond what you already know you are capable of; that your craftiness isn’t bound by your history (even as it is based on, bounces-off of, and is perhaps defined by it).

I never went through that moment on March 10th, and perhaps that frustration finds expression during that last quartet. Now, is that failure?

Having said all that, these atoms—clichés or otherwise—inform me (and perhaps audiences and my fellow performers) about who I am—my history, my lineage, my identity. As I’ve said before I can trace almost everything I do to my musical ancestors.

the fourth wall: or maybe I should listen to my own advice

Last year I actually did something (near-direct quotation during an improvisation) that I warned my students against as too risky, and I did something similar this month (breaking the fourth wall). I managed to pull it off last time, but I don’t think the results were worth the gamble this time.

During this month’s event, I though it’d be an amusing, humorous gambit to start with a restart. (It was also an attempt to explode the improvisative practice.)

I also decided to do the same with the closing quartet. Though I think Kevin and Owen got the joke, in retrospect, perhaps it was an alienating moment for Méadhbh. (It also maybe came across as an assertion of leadership, though Kevin admirably seemed to take it as a call to rebellion.)

The breaking of the fourth wall can work sometimes (it did that time), but apparently not under these conditions, and not this particular way. If a significant aspect of the art of improvisation is the art of persuasion, I lost the trust of the audience (and my fellow performers) at that point. …And it felt like it put a spanner in the works for the rest of the event (and not in a good way).

(This was doubly problematic as curator, and that’s part of the reason for delegating the task of refereeing to Kevin. I’ve said that curating Stet Lab is “an art, not a science”, and I’m still learning on the job.)

aiming for greatness?

I think Owen found the last quartet a disappointing experience. I told Owen that it wasn’t going to be great every time. It can’t be. We aim for greatness (however you define that) perhaps (I know I do), but we often fail.

I told Owen that, regardless of the success or otherwise of the performance, he has at least the right attitude for this way of musicking. An attitude that encompasses a personal (or shared) understanding that some outcomes are more desirable (however you gauge that) than others. Add to that a sense of how to improve (evolve, mutate and adapt)—a creative intelligence—that makes the next one likely better than the last, and you have the model improviser. Aren’t we, to borrow a term from Mark Dresser, involved in a personal pedagogy? (Dresser (2000), ‘A Personal Pedagogy’ in John Zorn (ed.) Arcana: Musicians on Music (New York: Granary Books), pp. 250–261.)

Before we go on stage, I joke with Jamie Smith that we’re the two guitarists who’re going to be tripping up each other (and that the drummer, Owen Sutton, will have to pick through the carnage).

By ‘tripping up’ I’m not implying that the results weren’t going to be interesting, musical or fun.

FrImp, Birmingham, November 1, 2007

The first time I perform with Jamie, we spend the entire first set—forty-odd minutes of it—colliding with each other. That really was a train wreck, but the two horn players seem to relish the opportunity to fly over the heads of the two guitarists.

By ‘train wreck’ I’m not implying that the results weren’t interesting, musical or fun.

The Lewis Glucksman Gallery, Cork, February 11, 2009

The day after the Lab, I discover that Mark Sanders (a little like Murray Campbell) works well as a jump-cutter. After the feeling-each-other-out moment, our duet settles into a kind of classic coordinated block-structure dance (after-Oxley-Taylor).

Jamie (a little like Franziska Schroeder), however, is very much a parallel-track improviser.

I talk to Jamie about this later, and his map of the group resembles nothing like mine.

How do I fit in the picture?

FrImp, Birmingham, November 1, 2007

During the second set, Jamie and I settle into an agreement. The results are more ‘successful’, but are they more interesting? musical? fun?

This ‘agreement’ still operates, at least from my point of view, in the Glucksman performance 15 months later. I basically stay out of Jamie’s way; and Jamie, out of mine.

The Lewis Glucksman Gallery, Cork, February 11, 2009

Halfway through the concert, Paul Dunmall soars over the heads of the two guitarists.

I’m still stuck at the medium scale. In particular, next to Paul’s incredible variability in velocities, speeds, densities, spaces and (ir)regularities, my playing—my contributions—seem more limited than ever.

Because of this, I’m considering jettisoning the volume pedal for a while to see what happens. I rely on the volume pedal; it’s been my hook into specific traditions of guitar playing, it’s how I breathe, but maybe my reliance is blinding me to certain possibilities. If you can imagine the topsy-turvey image of my knee as diaphragm, and ankle as jaw, the foot as mouth, you’re close to how clumsy this system of breathing might be. It’s breathing cycle never gets above a certain allegro, and below a kind of adagio.

My home, Cork, January 14, 2009

I’m wondering why so many relative novice improvisers will jettison preparations—tactics and ‘tricks’—when they finally hit the stage. Why, I ask, do they make it so impossibly hard for themselves when there are easier ways.

Murray opines that they are perhaps aiming for art rather than fun. “It’s always better to try to have fun, than to make art,” he says. “If you try and make art, you’re likely to end up disappointed, but if you’re having fun, you just might make art by accident.”

Art as a cherry-on-top.

Murray quickly adds that once you take the easier routes, you are in a much better position to add extra complications.

Stet Lab, Cork, February 10, 2009

Jamie’s guitar is hooked into an amplifier that is determined to misbehave. It’s humming and buzzing away. Jamie turns to face it, rotates dials this way and that, and finally says, “I like that noise.”

Trying to imagine—to anticipate—how I might be able to respond to that steady-state noise, I reply that it “makes it very hard for me….”

Jamie laughs, and so do I.

Jesse Ronneau’s apartment, Cork, February 13, 2009

Jesse Ronneau tells me that what I do is not improvisation, that what I teach is not improvisation, that I instead act on a philosophical agenda.

Well, yes, I do have my own idiomatic allegiances, ideological agendas, social habits, cultural traits, psychological quirks, but I fail to see how we could be rid of them, and I am skeptical as to whether an emancipation from these would necessarily amount to a good thing.

…And if I could be agenda-free (identity-free?), what would that mean to real-time, on-stage interaction (whether you’d call that ‘improvisation’ or not).

According to Jesse, during our October performance, I was being ‘uncooperative’ (“always interrupting” and “doing the opposite”). For whatever definition of ‘improvisation’ Jesse subscribes to, whatever it is I do, does not fall under it.

We’re talking cross-purposes: I’m not sure what ‘opposite’ might mean in a musical-performance context (never mind one in which identities and relationships are being (re)negotiated in real-time). Isn’t saying that this (performance infected by agendas, etc.) is not improvisation, akin to saying that polemical or ideological disagreements are not democratic?

It occurs to me in retrospect that our discussion, ironically, is a good illustration of this: a disagreement does not make this any less of a conversation, and musical ‘oppositions’ (whatever they might be) does not make a performance less of an improvisation.

An Spailpin Fanac, Cork, February 11, 2009

Paul Dunmall is explaining to Melanie L. Marshall how easy it is to improvise: “there are no wrong notes.”

The Lewis Glucksman Gallery, Cork, February 11, 2009

I’m as surprised as anyone that, despite the initial configurations (Mark and myself; Paul and Jamie), that by the end of the performance the foreground interactions exist between Mark and Jamie, and between Paul and myself.

Jesse Ronneau’s apartment, Cork, February 13, 2009

I say, “if you play clang, I might play clang, but I might play bloop, or bleep… scratch, or whatever, I fail to see the problem.”

“I don’t have a problem,” Jesse states. After a pause, he turns to me and adds, “you are the problem.”

An Spailpin Fanac, Cork, February 11, 2009

Paul is explaining to Melanie how easy it is to improvise: “there are no wrong notes.”

Aine Sheil’s apartment, Cork, February 21, 2009

I tell a story about teaching improvisation.

There’s one sticking point that, every year, I encounter: the notion of having multiple (contradictory) goals, (incompatible) volitions and (complex) agencies within a group, all driving the performance, but none having control. It seems the single consistently difficult (scary? threatening?) concept to grasp. In the students’ opposition, there may be invocations of the neo-Cagian denial of agency, or the dogma of command-and-control; the temptation is to let the music ‘just happen’, to be subsumed into chamber music, or to separate the leaders from the followers.

It occurs to me in retrospect that a student’s resistance to the idea of a complex of agencies is, ironically, a good illustration of it: disagreements, after all, fuel the engine of a discussion, and multiple goals, volitions and agencies have a corresponding function improvised performance.

An Spailpin Fanac, Cork, February 11, 2009

Paul tells Melanie that “there are no wrong notes.” You can’t make mistakes, just choices that may be better or worse.

random observations and questions

Flaws’n’all, and it’s by no stretch of the imagination a perfect piece of music (whatever that means), ‘the two Pauls…’ with Paul Dowling, Paul Dunmall, Veronica Tadman and Kevin Terry may contain some of my favorite surprises during the February Lab, and ‘it’s a great door, innit?’ by Paul Dunmall, Neil O’Loghlen and Mark Sanders, the musically strongest moments…

The best moments of hardcore tactical maneuverings may have been by Paul Dowling, Paul Dunmall and Owen Sutton towards the end of ‘last call for the big band…’.

Were Paul Dowling and Owen Sutton in groove mode?

Next to Paul Dunmall and Mark Sanders’ decades-long experience, we’re all very much junior parters in this musical enterprise. Are we all going to be transformed in their wake? (And I’m struck yet again the oddity of this latter-day, transnational improvising musicians’ tribe (of which I am embedded): seniority rules.)

I’m indebted to those who have told stories of, and given advice on, running no- or low-budget ventures elsewhere. My thanks to Mike Hurley (Fizzle, Brimingham), Lin Zhang (Grind Sight Open Eye, Edinburgh), Hugh Metcalfe (The Klinker, London), Paul Harrison (Classic Anxiety Dream (RIP), Edinburgh), Phil Morton (Frakture, Liverpool) and John Russell (Mopomoso, London) for their cautionary tales and hints & tips. In particular, I’d like to thank Bruce Coates (FrImp, Birmingham) and Stuart Revill (Safehouse, Brighton) who gave tangible, concrete pointers about the dos and don’ts of such a venture prior to, and just after, the very first Stet Lab in November 2007. I am also grateful to Alex Fiennes and Martin Parker (directors of the, by comparison, more ambitious and grander dialogues, Edinburgh) for their advice. Many things I’ll be saying here are derived or adapted from the suggestions and practices of these people and their organizations.

Thus the first piece of advice…

if it ain’t broke

I’ve said in the past that, regarding my guitar playing, I don’t have a single original bone in my body. The same would apply to how I try and run Stet Lab. Almost everything we’ve done comes from someone / somewhere else. Guest plus jam-session formats comes from Fizzle; a ‘safe’ testbed for new improvisers—Safehouse; prioritizing audio recordings—dialogues; etc.

Stuart Revill said that there’s a surface appearance of freewheeling looseness with Safehouse when, in fact, it is tightly controlled. Phil Morton said that there’s enough chaos in the music so the organizational aspects should be as structured as possible.

Keep the day-to-day operation of your club, and the stage management of the performance, as professional and efficiently executed as possible so that, on the night of the performance, the music can fly in all dimensions.

the mission

After the bruising January 2008 Lab, I drafted the mission statement to clear this up with everybody and anybody who might want to be involved in Stet Lab. (I even felt a need to articulate what Stet Lab was not.)

This statement was partly inspired by the guidance document that Safehouse used that Stuart Revill showed me. Although the Safehouse guidelines were created for a slightly different purpose from Stet Lab’s mission statement, it’s good to be clear about the long-term objectives of your club. Having a clear mission helps decisions about what’s important and what’s not. It also clears up with your collaborators, and especially with your short-term allies, what you need from them and what they can get from you.

…And, just as importantly, it will remind you why you’re doing what you are doing, helping you through the setbacks and low points (of which there will be plenty).

[Incidentally, the tug-and-pull I experienced during, and immediately after, the January 2008 Lab was partly as a result of two ventures, one by the Quiet Club and another by Tony Langlois, imploding. Stet Lab was originally going to be sandwiched in a week between those other monthly events, offering a newcomer / jam-session niche between the two more tightly programmed entities. It was an odd experience resisting the pull of two forces trying to invest Stet Lab with the dreams of those defunct projects.]

scene building

the improvisative: selling a verb

Most clubs or regular events are promoting, and riding on the recognition of, names (of performers, bands, songs, genres, styles, etc.). They are, in short, selling a product—an object (or near enough to one that performed music can ever become). Stet Lab has a problem in this landscape in that we are largely in the business of selling a process (and not one that you can necessarily take home with you). This can be a difficult thing to promote, and I’ve fallen back on largely meaningless and/or misleading terms such as ‘improvised music’ or ‘free jazz’. Stick in there, and I think that you can cultivate an audience who recognizes practice as the focal criteria.

[Of course I’d be lying if I said I did not have allegiances—in idiom, in tradition, and in practice—I do, but I want to stress the possibility of trans-cultural meetings and creative (mis)understandings. However, I will have to plead guilty to the charge of exercising a (*ahem*) contingent form of bias since, as a no-budget event, most of the visiting performers are my friends and/or colleagues.]

…But other factors keep getting in the way. I’ve been disappointed, for example, in the New Music™ vocabulary that dominates Stet Lab. It’s as if it—the post-War, European and Euro-American quirks, habits and reflexes—signifies some kind of musical neutral ground. I wonder, especially when first-timers hit the stage, what compels people to disengage their non-New Music™ idioms and traditions—their other identities—when confronted by an open improvisative context. (I’ve never discouraged someone from playing the blues, to sing a song, and I’ve often queried musicians afterwards about why they did not.)

I also feel we missed our opportunity in engaging the broader musical community (and with improvisers from a more overtly idiomatic position) in Cork after the juggernaut that was the January Lab. I’ve mourned this, and tried to rectify it on occasion, but I have no plans to address it… for the moment.

guest artists

Here’s my (partial, situated) characterization of Stet Lab’s home town. The local scene is too comfortable for my tastes. Everyone has their place, and, for me, what passes for improvisation has a smell of a celebration of transcendental vanilla identity and social statis. I want difference and dissent and newcomers and outsiders and visitors to permanently infect the performances at Stet Lab.

I also don’t want a space in which newcomers to improvised music (performers and audience) get intimidated (i.e. ‘know their place’); I want it to be welcoming (although, I worry that I too might be subscribing to a notion of middle-class, transcendental upward mobility).

One more piece of advice: don’t overload one event with guest artists (don’t do the January 2008 Lab). If you do that, you run out of steam real quick, and you can lose sight of the space for newcomers.

[We’re currently not in a great financial situation in regards to guest artists. Currently, we pay door money that can range from €10 to 120 for the guest artist. Ideally, I’d like to move to a situation in which we can guarantee a fee (even if small) for the performers, but this is not going to happen until we transform Stet Lab into a formal organization, and we gain some kind of external support.]

gender makeup of Stet Lab

Difficult issue to crack. Bruce Coates and I have had long discussions about the ‘macho’ aspect of much improvised music. I suspect that (as Phil Morton has pointed out), the ‘old boys’ network’ that underlies the small (if scattered) tribes of improviser-musicians is also partly to blame.

Stet Lab had been doing reasonably well until June 2008, but… sorry, no magic pill, but it doesn’t get solved without a lot of work. Acknowledge it and address it.

student population

Music students of a formal educational institution have, for better or worse, been the single largest minority in the Stet Lab-verse. They are curious, adventurous and, by-and-large, unafraid of failure. They are, in many respects, the perfect model of an improviser.

The College Student Syndrome, on the other hand, does sometimes hang-around the Lab like a albatross when dealing with bureaucrats and funding bodies. The presence of student performers can also, for reasons that I’ve never been able to understand, intimidate other (rookie) improvisers. (Can someone please explain this to me?)

However, I agree with Mike Hurley that it’s good to have students involved, and as UCC is AFAIK the biggest single employer in Cork, I find it weird that funding bodies would avoid us for that reason.

audience

inside and outside

Minority interest musical practices can be prone to cliques. Especially in a small town, the in crowd know each other, and this can be intimidating to newcomers.

Bruce advised me that you should try and recognize people, learn their names, greet them at each event if possible. There’s no magic pill, but you need to open this social space up without removing the possibility of connoisseurship (you want, perhaps, to create an environment in which newcomers can develop connoisseurship).

…And examine your prejudices: avoid the expectation that your audience come from certain classes, identities, genders, ethnicities, races, nationalities, colors, shapes or sizes. (No, I haven’t fully learned this one either, but, as per Franziska Schroeder’s excellent suggestion, I’ve recently distributed posters to Cork’s language schools….)

publicity

Having a regular space and a regular time and calendar spot helps, but you still need to find your audience. Here some potential routes: flyers, posters, press and online resources.

Flyers: This I learned from Bruce: Go to every ‘compatible’ event in town (left-field jazz concerts, experimental music festivals, talks by visiting improvisers, etc.) and flyer everyone who comes out the door.

Posters: I have no idea how well this works. I have only three concrete cases where the poster caught someone’s attention, and of those, only two came to a performance.

Press: This divides into press releases and listings. Again, I know of only one case in which someone came to a Lab because of a local listing (and we’ve never seen him since). Press visibility, however, may help any future funding application, and can persuade visiting (and local) artists that we are at least serious.

Online resources: This, to some extent, is circular. The more press releases and listing that you can get online, the higher your google ranking; the higher the google ranking the greater visibility you have… You may also consider some of the usual, legit SEO optimization tricks.

However, I don’t know if this brings new audience in, but it’s a good way of keeping in touch with your existing base. This is especially important for last minute notifications of changes such as when a venue shifts you around…

venues

Looking for, and finding, a suitable space for improvised music ain’t easy. Especially, if you want a jam session model, you want a space that is relatively informal, perhaps intimate (concert spaces can scare the newcomer to improvisation). I’ve also gravitated towards a small- or no-PA situation since it helps train those of us who have greater resources in terms of volume to be sensitive to the quieter voices, and it greatly reduces setup time (again, a significant issue in jam session contexts).

Here the Stet Lab check list:

• Reasonable acoustics for unamplified instruments.
• We’re allowed to charge at the door, and, in order to charge at the door, we need…
• …a separate room from the main bar/public area.
• Free of charge (or at least low rent) since we don’t make enough to pay the performers nearly enough.
• Access to a bar (helps to keep the vibe informal—session-like).

Audience tend to come to off-the-wall, out-of-the-ordinary events if they know when and where they are held. You greatly increase your chances of holding on to your audience if your event occurs at the same place at the same time (currently, in our case, the second Monday of the month at 9 pm), so keeping things running like clockwork helps.

Here’s another thing that I learned from Bruce: check the booking with the venues, then double check maybe a week prior to the event, and then check again a few days prior. In the brief period in which the Lab has been operating, we’ve had almost every conceivable venue problem: double bookings, mysterious disappearances of the booking, bookings on the wrong day, venues that suddenly decide to charge us rent, venues that lose their music license, and, most spectacularly, venues that get torn down. Having a contingency plan is handy (as we’ve resorted to the University concert hall), but you will lose a significant portion of your audience every time you resort to it.

get a team

I don’t do this alone, and I couldn’t (probably wouldn’t) do this alone. A very, very big thanks to all the Stet Lab (ir)regulars, past and present. In particular, Veronica Tadman and Kevin Terry presently, and Eoin Callery in the past, have served this enterprise well beyond the call of duty. I’m also grateful to Anne-Marie Curtin and Nicki Ffrench Davis for their help in the early days when Stet Lab was the odd-ball offshoot of the Cork Music Collective (RIP).

The events just would just not have happened, and the Lab have likely imploded in the first few month, without them.

however…

…beware of people who talk-the-talk, but don’t turn up; people who (a) say that they would be involved if only such-and-such (the person with the vision gets the job), (b) want to run before we can walk (suggest some whizz-bang, spectacularly time consuming addition to the monthly event), or (c) people who say something is easy, but will not commit to doing any work. I recommend that you see if people are willing turn up every month, help in a low-level, low-key way, before asking them to start their grand plan. Alternatively, ask them to execute their grand plan for, say, three months before going official or public with it (a test run to see if they have the long-term stamina to keep it up).

You need to make judgment calls, weighing the amount of time needed to execute a project vs. the benefits given the long-term aims of your club. (For example, video documentation would be nice, but no professional improvising musicians that I know can turn (even indirectly) video into income of any kind, and it is enormously time consuming to edit and process on our part.)

It’s often good to remind people that there’s nothing wrong with ‘just’ being an audience member or ‘just’ a performer. You really have to be committed to the enterprise, and get a big, big, big kick out of witnessing improvised music (sometimes bad, often indifferent, only on occasion spectacular, although always fascinating) every month for you to labor behind the scenes of an entity like Stet Lab. Getting something like the Lab running is mostly unglamorous drudgery, time consuming and frustrating, and that’s (understandably) not for most people.

is it worth it?

am I club-runner or performer?

John Russell told me that he set up Mopomoso partly to give himself a space to perform. It’s taken me almost a year to come to terms with this, but there’s similar motivations for continuing with Stet Lab.

Early on, I felt I needed some curatorial (and ideological) distance between my own take on improvisation, performance and music, and Stet Lab’s ongoing practice. To that end, I removed myself from performing as part of four Labs (January to April, 2008), but I’ve since decided that such curatorial ‘objectivity’ doesn’t much make sense, and I need remind myself that I define myself primarily as an improviser-performer, and only by necessity am I a club-runner.

congratulations, you’re a club-runner

Whether you would want to organize a regular improvised music event depends on what you’re looking to gain from it. Stet Lab, for me, is partly a long-term scene-building exercise; it is, at times, a place of research into the pedagogical, sociological and political dimensions of improvisative practice; an excuse to bring over practitioners whose work I am excited about; and a place to play.

Good luck, and let me know of your experiences and please share your stories.

I think I did some pretty damn good playing on December 9th. Nothing life changing perhaps, but I think it was a reasonable contrast my contribution to October and November’s Labs. But here’s the question: how do I know when I’m getting a little too… complacent is the wrong word—comfortable?

Let me clarify this: I’m not talking about the fact that ‘sure you’re feeling sick?’ kicked-off with one of my standard gambits (a small interval flutter that I half stole from Parker and half stole from Ligeti). I know from following, say, George E Lewis’ playing over the years that where you start can be as trivial as you make it (as long, of course, as you end up somewhere interesting).

Anyway, how much of these musico-personal clichés are really a hindrance? Take, for example, the bowed-swell-slide that opens ‘has “it” happened?’. The slide goes up in pitch rather than down. I don’t know if I ever start one of those going down. Not really a problem though is it? certainly not one that I’m going to lose sleep over. I’ll take it as a quirk. Ornette, for example, always sounds like Ornette; I’m not going to fool myself into thinking that I have a transcendental musical personality.

Actually, there is one habit of mine that I will be happy to be rid of. That damp-string-yank-neck-swell whump can go (you can hear it at around the 3:44 mark on ‘i read many literary forms’). It’s a lazy (pointless in its current form) trick and I’m tired of hearing it.

I’m also not talking about ‘shaping’ or ‘form’. I think ‘it’s a miracle (like Moses)’, for example, has a very captivating, moment-by-moment geometry—a result of real-time (re)negotiations and (re)configurations.

Yet I’m reminded of Mats Gustafsson’s recent performance with The Thing. Why are all the phrases the same length? why are all the ideas of the same quanta?

Things I had to watch out for in the December Lab: for whatever reason, Bruce Coates and I shared the same rhythm. It would have been faaar too easy to enter and exit in (boring, homogenous) sync. For a large part of the first set (‘it’s a miracle…’ and ‘i read many literary forms’) I spent my time staying out of Sarah O’Halloran’s way, and trying not to overlap too much with Bruce. This was trickier than it might sound since I feel reasonably familiar with Bruce’s sound (not surprising considering that we’ve played together quite a bit over the last 12+ months, and I’ve had time to study his playing a bit).

Aside: from my vantage point, Sarah seemed to navigate (create?) her own space without difficulty. Wonder if it felt like that was the case from her side?

And that’s my issue with my playing at this month’s Lab: are my gestures the same size? are my ideas-per-minute constant? I think, on a good day, on the microscopic level, my playing exhibits (complex / interesting / infuriating / contradictory) variation, but I fear that, on a macroscopic level, it’s often (simple / boring / predictable / coherent) uniformity that rules the day. Am I getting too comfortable in this space?

…And am I right in guessing that this performance was a kind of last hurrah before the (Franziska-driven) change?

I don’t, however, want to end on that note: we played well—heck, some of the strongest Stet Lab moments happened this month—and I’m happily listening to these on my iPod. There’s a good rapport between Bruce and I; Neil O’Loghlen’s addition made certain surprising group dynamics available; and Sarah, as I said before, was funny as hell.

The aspiration for this month’s Lab (though I admit I decided on it less that five minutes before playing) was to play quasi-logically; pick a strategy and don’t budge… So I decide early on (‘do you need me here…’) to shadow Andrea and try to limit myself to playing while he isn’t. This is then complemented/complicated by playing pianissimo lyrically when he is playing. This is maintained throughout.

The second (‘you might, just…’) went in similar fashion with me deciding on a strategy early on and sticking to it like crazy. In the third (‘we don’t know…’) I gave up on rational thought when I figured out it was just Andrea and myself as opposed to the quartet of the previous two ditties (kind of like when the cartoon coyote looks down to find that the cliff ended a couple feet back).

Still though, two out of three isn’t bad.

It’s interesting for me to read Han’s descriptions of his thought processes during his improvisations with Franziska. I can’t imagine reasoning like that on the fly. Maybe it is because I tend to rely on my focal attention as opposed to my global/general attention?

And so, for December’s Lab do I push my luck and maybe try to juggle two strategies? Or do I throw caution to the wind and go for the intuitive thing?